


Dream of Life- Escapism

by pl2363



Series: Dream of Life- universe [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers AU - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Character Death, Dildos, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Fingerfucking, Forced Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Partners, Multiple Penetration, Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 128,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3100718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl2363/pseuds/pl2363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delving further in the Dream of Life universe on Cybertron set after the Interlude stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coping Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> After re-reading Stockholm Series by Kookaburra over my vacation I was inspired to add to this AU.
> 
> Please heed the warning tags. This is definitely a dark!fic.

Strong black hands moved over Prowl’s sides and hips as he rode the thick spike embedded in his valve. His doorwings flared and fluttered as he gave himself over to the pure pleasure Sideswipe offered him. Things had started off shy and unsure between them, but in the months they’d been here together they’d grown close.

Sideswipe still needed the inhibitor while they recharged, his nightmares continuing to plague him, though, not as often as when he’d first arrived. And Prowl enjoyed sharing a room with the larger mech. There was something reassuring about being curled up around his frame. He felt less alone, less guilty.

Prowl keened, pleasure curling inside his array. These moments with Sideswipe were the sweetest moments of escapism. It helped chase the oppressive monotony of their repressed lives away.

“Primus, you’re a sexy slagger,” Sideswipe groaned, his spike hard and throbbing on the edge of overload. “Gonna blow any sec…” He rolled his helm back, jerking his hips up to impale himself to the hilt.

Prowl’s fingers curled into his still scarred chestplate and he moaned. “Fill me,” he said, voice breathy and thin before devolving into a guttural moan.

“Yes, sir,” Sideswipe teased, then roared as he overloaded.

Fluid exploded from his spike, filling Prowl’s valve with the electrical, hot pleasure he was chasing after. He was pulled over the the edge into an intense overload, doorwings taught and held high on his back while the rest of his frame shuddered with the wave of pleasure that overtook him.

“Beautiful,” Sideswipe murmured, hands following the curve of Prowl’s trembling chest as he rode out his moment of release.

Sagging, Prowl lightly panted, his cooling fans whirring to life as he braced his weight against Sideswipe’s chest with his hands. He’d never been one for casual interfacing before the end of the war, but he couldn’t deny this relationship, if it could be called that, helped him cope. Especially in light of Shockwave’s continued flirtation, despite Prowl making it clear he wasn’t interested.

“You two, ah, done?” Ironfist asked from the hallway.

Prowl frowned a little. “What do you need?”

“Just was gonna head to the lab for a bit. Wanted to let you know,” Ironfist replied through the door.

“We’ll get cleaned up and meet you there shortly,” Prowl replied.

“‘Kay.” Ironfist’s footfall indicated he left after a moment.

“Think it bugs him?” Sideswipe asked. “You and me?”

Crawling forward to lay over Sideswipe’s chest, Prowl’s fingers traced the jaggedly healed cutlines in the red plating. “Is it terrible of me that I’ve begun to no longer care? That I just want this corner of bliss with you for myself?”

“Not terrible. You’re coping like the rest of us. Nothing wrong with that.” Sideswipe pet Prowl’s chevron with his thumb. “We’re getting a new member soon, right? He’ll have someone to occupy his attention.”

“In the next day or two. Shockwave is building a fighting arena for Octane to run in return for his Autobot,” Prowl replied.

“Did you find out who it is?” Sideswipe asked before nuzzling Prowl’s helm.

“No. Shockwave hasn’t been as free-flowing with information since I spurned his advances,” Prowl replied.

This whole situation was starting to really wear on Prowl. His processor tired of trying to calculate odds and whether they’d ever be free. He knew if he shared a berth with Shockwave things would turn more in his favor, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to live with the self-loathing that would follow, nor hurt Sideswipe’s feelings in the process. After all, this pseudo-relationship was what had helped Sideswipe stabilize here. Prowl didn’t want to rip that away from him by spreading his legs for their master.

…

 

Ironfist sighed as he dug through the piles of junk. He was glad Sideswipe was happier now, and Prowl seemed more content, too, but it did leave him as the odd mech out. It didn’t help that the walls between the rooms in the suite weren’t very well insulated. He’d lie there waiting for them to finish before he could offline and recharge, and more often than not, he’d wake to similar noises.

The door to the lab opened and closed.

Ironfist perked up and peered over the large mass of scrap and junk to see Shockwave. “Sir!” He slid down the pile and walked up to greet his master, standing nice and straight before him.

“You’ve completed almost 50 drones. I’m impressed,” Shockwave said, looking at the small army Ironfist had been working on. “Where are your comrades?”

“Back in the suite. I decided on an early start and came down on my own,” Ironfist replied.

“Taking initiative I see,” Shockwave replied. Ironfist could hear the smile in his voice. “When Prowl arrives, tell him I want to see him in the Skylight room.”

“Will do,” Ironfist replied.

Shockwave turned and left as quickly and quietly as he’d arrived and Ironfist relaxed his posture once his master was out of sight. He was aware they had it better than most after hearing the tales of what Sideswipe endured, but still. He felt pretty lonely here. Lost even. He touched his collar and dimmed his optics.

…

 

Prowl didn’t know why Shockwave wanted to see him, but these days being called to the Skylight room usually meant lots of small talk that he was now growing weary of.

The door had been left open and Prowl cautiously entered when he heard voices murmuring from the sitting area. Coming around the large plush chair Shockwave prefered to sit in, his spark nearly skipped a pulse when he was greeted by the sight of Soundwave and _Jazz_.

Shockwave scooted to one side on his oversized chair and patted the open space beside him for Prowl to sit. “Have a seat. We’re discussing transactions to acquire more Autobots to be kept here.”

Not wanting to seem reluctant, Prowl sat beside his master and he and Jazz exchanged small smiles.

“As indicated, Vortex will acquire a secondary slave,” Soundwave said. “Praxian build currently housed with the Constructicons.”

“Designation?” Shockwave asked.

“Smokescreen,” Soundwave replied.

“Why are Constructicons willing to part with a rare slave build?” Shockwave asked.

“Being sent off world by Megatron to mine raw materials for more energon production,” Soundwave droned. “Effort to maintain slave while away, too costly.”

Shockwave leaned back in the chair and rubbed his chin with his hand. “I also have a trade to be completed tomorrow with Octane in exchange for his Autobot. What sort of deal might I strike to get both of the Autobots away from Vortex?”

“Vortex seeks power and status,” Soundwave replied.

“Sir, if I might suggest offering Vortex a position in your advisory council to Megatron?” Prowl said, glancing up at the larger purple mech.

His master’s singular gold optic brightened. “There’s a reason you’re my favorite,” Shockwave said, sounding pleased as he pet Prowl’s back. “Yes, we can see if that will please him enough to give up at least one slave.”

Prowl frowned. He’d rather no mech be left in Vortex’s “care”, but it wasn't up to him.

“Soundwave brought Jazz with him so you and he may spend some time together. He’s not allowed in the habitation suite area, but feel free to take him to one of the other rooms and socialize while Soundwave and I work on the details of our plans.” Shockwave gave Prowl’s doorwing a passing touch then gestured with his laser hand for them to leave.

“Thank you, sir,” Prowl replied. He slipped off the chair and Jazz rose to his pedes. “How long?”

“I will summon you over the intercom," Shockwave replied.

Prowl nodded his thanks, then led Jazz from the room and down the hallway. They walked in silence side-by-side. If not for the collars around their necks, this moment almost felt normal. Prowl pushed open a door and Jazz proceeded inside.

“Whoa,” Jazz said looking around. “This from the Towers?”

“I believe so.” Prowl looked around the ornately decorated room. Shelves along one wall were partially filled with salvaged datapads, constituting a library of classic literature and historical accounts going back millennia. In the middle of the room were three plush sofas that were incredibly comfortable. Prowl liked to come in here and read when things were quiet.

Jazz looked back at Prowl, then grabbed his hand, pulling him into a tight hug. “Frag, it’s so good to see you.”

Prowl happily hugged his best friend back. “I’ve missed you.”

“My cheeky aft? Really?” Jazz said, leaning back and smiling brightly at Prowl.

Prowl nodded.

“So how’s things here at casa de Shockwave?” Jazz asked as he dragged Prowl by their still linked hands to a sofa and plopped down.

Carefully sitting down beside Jazz, Prowl smiled a little. it was good to see Jazz be himself like this. In Soundwave’s presence he was different, quieter and strangely obedient. “Things are alright, I suppose. Sideswipe has been here for sometime now, and is adjusting. Out of curiosity, have you heard who Octane has?”

“Shockwave didn’t tell you? It’s Ironhide. And the trade already happened. ‘Hide’s been with the medic, Tremor, for almost a week now. Guess he was pretty messed up,” Jazz replied.

Prowl’s doorwings lowered a little. Had his good favor with Shockwave dropped so much he was no longer privy to such important details?

“I saw,” Jazz said after a moment. “The way Shockwave is around you and all that. Touchin’ you when you don’t want him to...”

“He’s made his desire known, but I told him I wasn’t interested in him.” Prowl frowned. “It appears to have affected things between us.”

“Wish I had helpful advice, but I don’t know what to tell you,” Jazz said, holding Prowl’s hand sandwiched between his. “Not like I’m exactly able to help.”

“Listening helps,” Prowl replied.

The intercom crackled on. “Please return to the Skylight room,” Shockwave said.

“As always, time’s too short,” Jazz said with a sad smile.

Prowl nodded. “Perhaps they’ll let you visit again.”

Jazz flashed a grin. “If I ask Sounders, he’ll do his best to make it happen.”

It was nice to know Jazz was being treated fairly well by current standards. “We should get back,” Prowl said after a moment of basking in the warmth of the moment.

…

 

Jazz hissed at Ravage, but the turbocat wasn't dissuaded from her toothy grip of the small lute Soundwave bought him a few days earlier.

"Let go!" Jazz said, exasperated with Soundwave's unruly hoard of cassetticons. They stole his energon goodies, and took or destroyed most of the small gifts Soundwave would buy for him.

The lute's metal creaked and suddenly the neck pulled away from the body. Ravage held the body with her teeth, and then triumphantly trotted away.

Jazz threw the neck part in his hands across his room in a fit of anger.

"What's the matter Autobrat?" Rumble asked, peering into his room.

"Frag off," Jazz replied as he waved a dismissive hand at the smaller mech.

"As you wish!" Rumble ran into Jazz's room with Frenzy on his heels. They got up on his berth and Frenzy got on all fours, baring his valve, and Rumble cackled as let his panel retract and began 'facing Frenzy from behind.

"What the frag is wrong with you two?" Jazz stormed out of the room. He hated when he was left alone here with the cassetticons. Soundwave had been called to a meeting with Megatron, and that was one place he _never_ took Jazz.

Stepping out on the balcony, Jazz leaned heavily on the railing and sighed. He stared down at the ground far below and imagined jumping off. What would his body look like at the bottom in the street if he fell from this height? Mangled? Broken into pieces? He didn't think he'd ever actually go through with it, but he couldn't help but think about it sometimes.

"Aww, big guy. We were just messing around!" Jazz heard Rumble say. He didn't move, though, continuing to stare downward.

"Jazz's room _off_ limits," Soundwave replied, rare sternness in his monotone voice.

" _Fine_ ," they replied in unison.

The footfall of his master moved toward the balcony door. "Jazz, upset?"

"Nah," Jazz replied. He wasn't going to complain. He had it good here and he was acutely aware of that.

Soundwave joined him on the balcony, standing at his side. "Mini-cassettes will not bother you again."

"They will, but don't worry 'bout it," Jazz replied.

Soundwave turned his visored gaze on Jazz. "The goal is to give you a comfortable life."

"And it is." Jazz looked back into the red glowing visor.

"The agitation you experience when here is evident. A factor in taking you with me as often as possible," Soundwave intoned.

Jazz half-smiled. "I appreciate what I have here. I like goin' places with you. Primus, you even let me have time with Blue & 'Raj. If puttin' up with the cassettes wrecking my handful of belongings and generally giving me a hard time is the only price I pay, I'm okay with that."

"Wrecked belongings?" Soundwave asked.

"Oh, yeah. Ravage broke the lute you got me. Sorry." Jazz frowned a little.

Somehow even with a visor and mask, Soundwave looked genuinely upset. "Music you play is soothing." He reached over, and did something he'd never done with Jazz before; he pryed his hand off the railing and took hold of it. "Warehouses open still. Replacement important."

A mech that never allowed touching was _holding_ Jazz's hand. He remained still, taking a moment to let it sink in. Soundwave _trusted_ him.

Jazz flashed a smile. "Alright. Maybe you can lock the new instrument in the closet in your berth room to keep it safe?"

Soundwave nodded. "A viable solution."

...

 

Prowl stood beside Shockwave at the entrance to the compound. He’d been summoned here early in the morning but not told why. He tried to not think about how he’d been cut out of the information loop now that he’d denied Shockwave’s advances. What could he do, though?

A hand pet the back of his doorwing panel. “You appear distressed. Are you nervous about the newest member I’ll add to your group?” Shockwave asked.

So that was why he was here? To be a greeter of sorts? “No, sir.” Prowl didn’t resist the touch or pull away this time, and Shockwave’s fingers made lazy trails over the sensitive plating.

“What seems to be bothering you then?” Shockwave asked.

Prowl forced himself to relax his tight posture to give the illusion that he enjoyed the unwanted ministrations over his doorwing. “When I don’t have information to cull through, I get restless.”

“I see.” Shockwave’s voice lilted slightly. “Then I shall give you some intell to analyze for me later this evening after my meetings. Would that be helpful?”

“It would, sir,” Prowl replied, looking into the singular golden optic.

The door to the compound creaked open and a large triple changer entered with Ironhide in tow.

“Got him fixed up by Tremorwave like you asked,” Octane said, sounding annoyed as he yanked the lead, forcing Ironhide forward another couple steps.

“Thank you,” Shockwave replied as he stepped forward and took the lead from his fellow Decepticon. “The full ownership rights of the arena have been transferred into your name as of this morning. Megatron looks forward to seeing the gladiator fights return and has indicated he’d like to participate as well.”

Octane smirked. “Sounds good to me.” The triple changer looked at Ironhide and sneered. “Stripped his gears but good, so he should be ready for use.”

Prowl saw Shockwave’s frame tense slightly as he nodded.

“See you around.” Octane groped Ironhide’s aft once then turned and stalked out.

Ironhide hadn’t reacted at all. He was staring at the ground, unmoving. He hadn’t even looked up at Prowl. His plating looked like it was in good condition, though. Tremorwave had repaired him well on the outside at least.

Shockwave removed the lead from Ironhide’s collar, and canted his head when the elder warrior still didn’t move or look up. He then tipped Ironhide’s helm upward by his chin with his one hand. “You’re safe here. Free from abuse. You will be cared for and in the company of your fellow Autobots. As you see, Prowl is here.” He stepped aside to let Ironhide see.

Prowl’s doorwings lifted and he sadly smiled. “Ironhide. It’s true. You’re safe here.”

The elder warrior remained mute, no indication what-so-ever he even understood them let alone was processing what they told him.

“It appears Octane did more than ‘strip gears’,” Shockwave said with a clear tone of disapproval.

Taking a tentative step forward, Prowl reached out and gently touched Ironhide’s arm. “I’ll take you back to our habitation suites. Follow me, okay?”

Ironhide nodded once. The first indication he was even remotely aware of what was happening.

“I won’t lie that it makes me somewhat nervous to have another large mech in the suite with you, Prowl. I don’t want anymore harm to come to you,” Shockwave said after a moment of staring at Ironhide intensely with his optic.

“The incident with Sideswipe wasn’t his fault. And it’s been weeks since without another instance of his dissociative behavior.” Of course that was only because of the inhibitor, but Shockwave didn’t need to know that.

The golden optic shifted focus to Prowl, as he reached out and gently ghosted his fingertips over his chevron. “I trust your judgement.”

“Thank you, sir.” Prowl gently pulled Ironhide’s arm. “Come on. Follow me.”

Ironhide obediently stepped closer to Prowl. Sideswipe’s memory dumps were much less upsetting to see when compared to how Ironhide was currently behaving. What had become of the Autobots Prowl had failed? Were they all like this? So broken inside? Prowl would be sure Ironhide would be cared for, but he had no idea how to heal unseen wounds like this.

As they walked down the corridor away from Shockwave and toward the suite, Prowl glanced at Ironhide. “This is all my fault, and I’m _so_ sorry Ironhide.”

Ironhide didn’t even lift his downcast gaze at his words. He simply followed Prowl like an obedient drone and Prowl felt his spark deeply ache with guilt in response. Primus, was there going to ever be an end to all this suffering?

…

 

Fingers danced down the neck of the holo-guitar, melodic notes resonating in the room as Jazz played a warm, slow song for Soundwave. The larger mech sat on the berth with his back against the headboard, listening with his visor dimmed.

As the song ended, Jazz half-smiled. “Wanna hear another one?” he asked.

Soundwave’s dimmed visor came back to full brightness. “Tomorrow evening,” he replied.

“Deal,” Jazz replied. He gazed at the holo-guitar, and ran his hand over the smooth curved body of the instrument. This was much nicer than the lute Ravage destroyed. “Thank you for getting this for me,” he said looking back at over at Soundwave.

“Mutually beneficial arrangement. Music is soothing.” He then moved, stretching out his arm to place a hand on Jazz’s forearm. “Jazz is soothing to watch while playing.”

“Glad you enjoy it, too,” Jazz replied, amazed by the forward touch.

“Protecting you is important.” Soundwave let go his arm. “Possible solution to issues with mini-cassettes is to share my berth.”

Jazz canted his head curiously. “You mean, _recharge_ here?”

Soundwave nodded. “Affirmative.”

To not be woken up multiple times during the night by one or more of the cassetticons was a tempting offer, but Jazz was naturally suspicious. “Just recharging, right? I mean, you know… nothing else?”

“Affirmative. Recharging. Nothing else,” Soundwave intoned.

Jazz considered the offer for a long moment, fingers petting the guitar slowly. “Maybe we can try a test run? I’ll stay tonight and see how it is?”

“That’s agreeable.” Soundwave swung his legs over the edge of the berth and held out his hands.

Jazz placed the holo-guitar in his master’s grasp, and Soundwave got to his feet and crossed over to the closet, placing it inside, and sliding the door shut. The locking mechanism kicked on and the green light on the keypad turned red.

Returning to the berth, Soundwave sat and gestured for Jazz to lay down.

Crawling over to the far side of the berth, Jazz curled up on his side, his collar jangling as it touched the berth surface. Soundwave picked up the remote on the berthside table, shutting the door to the berthroom and turning out the lights before he settled down beside Jazz.

This was weird. Jazz wasn’t sure he could relax enough to rest like this. He’d grown accustomed to his own little berth in a small room. He’d even sort of gotten used to the cassetticons coming in and intentionally waking him. The silence here, the massive size of this berth, it was all so foreign.

“Relax,” Soundwave said after a long moment of silence.

Jazz felt a hand on his helm, fingers gently stroking one of his audio horns. It was as comforting as it was unexpected. “Okay, I gotta ask. You don’t even like your little guys touchin’ you. You barely touch them, except with like Laserbeak and Buzzsaw when they land on you. So why are you suddenly… you know, touching me?”

Soundwave’s hand withdrew into the darkness. Jazz stared at the red visor focused on him. “I wish to show my appreciation of your presence. If the touches are unwanted, I will desist.”

“They aren’t unwanted.” Jazz dimmed his visor a little. “Just tryin’ to understand is all.”

Fingers returned to his sensor horn, tracing the edges of it slowly. Soundwave remained quiet, and Jazz soon relaxed thanks to the soothing strokes over his helm and horns, visor dimming then flickering off. It felt like a small victory to have reached this level of trust with Soundwave. Plus, the opportunity for a whole evening to recharge without interruption was definitely a nice perk.

…

 

“He still won’t come out?” Sideswipe asked.

Prowl let the door to the room Ironhide was using shut behind him. He held an empty glass in his hands. “No. At least he’s accepting fuel, but he won’t speak, and he doesn’t move from his berth.”

Sideswipe sighed. “And I thought what I went through was bad. What in the world happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” Prowl replied as he walked down the hallway, doorwings low against his back.

Out in the main area, Prowl took the glass to the sink and rinsed it. Sideswipe stood behind him, petting his doorwings to try and offer comfort. He then leaned in and nuzzled Prowl’s helm, one hand wandering to cup his aft. “You wanna distraction?”

Ironfist made a huffed sound as he cleared his vocalizer.

They both looked over at him. He was sitting at the table, tinkering with some items he’d brought back from the junk pile.

“My apologizes,” Prowl said to Ironfist. “We’ll take this conversation elsewhere.” He walked smoothly with Sideswipe just behind him back down the hallway and they disappeared into the room they now shared.

Heaving a sigh, Ironfist frowned behind his mask. He was glad they had one another, but at the same time it also pointed to just how alone he was here. He’d foolishly hoped the new mech might be someone he could make friends with at least, but so far other than watching him walk in a daze to the room he still hadn’t left, Ironfist hadn’t seen him at all.

The sounds of a berth squeaking at intervals started up a short time later. It had become something he could tune out if he occupied himself with something else, so he focused on the small gravity disruptor he was repairing. It wasn’t strong enough to add to his hidden stockpile of potential weapons, but once fixed it would be a nice trinket to give their master. Shockwave always appreciated adding items to his collection.

“So every night they do that?”

Startled, Ironfist lost his grip on his small wrench he was using and it went flying off the table. He stared up at the large, red warrior looming in the doorway.

“Uh, yeah. Sometimes in the morning, too,” Ironfist replied.

Ironhide walked over and picked up the wrench, setting on the table as he took a seat across from Ironfist. “As far as ways to cope go, could be worse.”

“You, ah, haven’t left your room in three days. Or spoken since you got here,” Ironfist said, staring at the war-etched face of the larger mech.

A sardonic smile curved Ironhide’s lips. “Was waitin’ to see how things would play out in this place.”

“It’s one of the best places an Autobot could hope to end up from what I’ve gathered. Didn’t Prowl tell you how good we have it here?” Ironfist asked.

“I don’t trust Prowl,” Ironhide replied in a curt tone.

“Really?” Ironfist deeply frowned behind his mask. “Prowl looks out for us.”

“Maybe he’s changed. Never even thought he had a working interface array until my first night here.” Ironhide snorted a laugh. “He’s louder than I thought.”

Ironfist shrank a little in his seat, and started to tinker with his project again. “They both are, but the walls of this place are thin. I just try to ignore them.”

Ironhide offered his hand to shake. “I’m Ironhide. It’s nice to meet you. What was your name again?”

Ironfist took hold of the large dark grey hand and gave a firm shake. “Ironfist. We both have ‘iron’ in our designations. Pretty funny, huh?”

Chuckling a little, Ironhide nodded. “You remind me of an old friend.”

“Oh? Who’s that?” Ironfist asked.

“Wheeljack. Quirky little mech, obsessed with inventin’ things,” Ironhide replied, gazing at the pieces and tools on the table.

“Wheeljack trained me,” Ironfist said proudly.

“That explains a lot,” Ironhide said with a sage nod.

Ironfist felt his intense loneliness begin lift away. Maybe a warrior and a scientist didn’t have a ton in common, but Ironhide didn’t seem like a bad mech. There was something sort of comforting about him.

“So, what’cha got cookin’ here?” Ironhide asked, poking at piece of his project.

“A gravity disruptor. It’s from the Towers. I almost have it all fixed.” Ironfist took his small wrench to the bolt he’d been tightening. Once he finished, he picked up a circuit. “Just need to attach this to the power source…” Ironfist’s fingers manipulated the small circuit into place and gently pushed it into the housing. “There.” He slid the completed object to the middle of the table and pressed the power button at the base. A blue glow emitted from the center and formed a see-through sphere around the top of the object. “Heh. Time to test it!”

Ironhide lifted an optic ridge. “It’s not gonna blow up or anything, right?”

Ironfist chuckled as he picked up a small piece of unused metal and threw it at the glowing sphere. The metal was caught in the blue light and floated around as if there was no gravity at all. “It works!”

Leaning in close, Ironhide stared with bright optics. “What’s it used for?”

“I think it’s for displaying items. Like if you’re a rich Towers mech and you want to showcase a crystal or a few crystals you toss them into the anti-gravity field and they float around,” Ironfist explained.

Ironhide looked bemused. “Tell me about Shockwave. How is he as a master?”

“He’s good to us. He’s trying to rescue mechs from bad situations when he can, like you and Sideswipe. He bought me and Prowl off the auction block, though,” Ironfist replied as he poked at the metal piece to make it float around in a different direction.

“There’s a bunch of rooms,” Ironhide said as he gazed at the floating metal.

“Prowl thinks at least one more mech might be coming here soon. Shockwave tends to tell him about that sort of thing ahead, though.” Ironfist then fingered a tool on the table. “Not that it’s my place to say so, but you shouldn’t be too hard on Prowl. He’s been the one holding things together, making this a home for us.”

Ironhide dimmed his optics a little and sadly smiled. “Things have been pretty messed up since I was sold off. Trusting someone like Prowl is gonna take me some time.”

“Oh.” Ironfist looked down at his finished project.

“If it makes a difference, I trust _you_ ,” Ironhide said.

Ironfist looked back up at him with bright optics. “Really? Well, I’ll look out for you. Promise.”

Ironhide chuckled a little. “Good to know I’m in capable hands.”


	2. Slow Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vortex continues to humiliate and torture Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker stood beside Vortex, keeping his gaze lowered. By showing his obedience over the last few weeks, Vortex had stopped keeping him on a lead, and now took him everywhere with him. He knew he was a status symbol, and had begun to accept this as his fate, reminding himself he could still be trapped in the locked room in Motormaster’s apartment. Vortex was violent, manipulative glitch, but at least he didn’t touch Sunstreaker.

“The agreed price,” Vortex said, handing over three sticks of credits.

Scrapper snatched them up and nodded, then stuck them all in his subspace. “Hook! Get the slave from his closet.”

In his peripheral, Sunstreaker watched Hook disappear.

“What will you do with two slaves anyway? You’ll have to get more rations to feed them and maintenance costs will eat into your income, won’t it?” Scrapper asked.

Vortex’s blades ruffed, something he did when annoyed. “None of your business.”

“More work than they’re worth if you ask me. This one made a nice toy, but in all honesty as a gestalt, well, we don’t have much need for playthings,” Scrapper said.

Hook returned, dragging Smokescreen along. Sunstreaker looked up and bristled at the sight of his former comrade. His plating was marred with long jagged scar lines, and his thighs and interface panel were scuffed down to the bare metal.

“He’s in terrible shape,” Vortex commented as he gazed at his newest acquisition.

“Five of us have been sharing him, what did you expect?” Scrapper asked as his gestalt mates snickered.

“Sweet little valve,” Longhaul piped up. “You’ll like him.”

Sunstreaker glanced at the side of his master’s face, knowing Vortex had zero interest in dipping his spike into any Autobot.

Stepping forward, Vortex snapped a lead on Smokescreen’s collar then yanked him to walk over. Smokescreen’s optics were dim and white. He was being drugged to keep him compliant, but whatever was in his system was better quality than what Sunstreaker had been on. He had no tremors, and walked smoothly despite the state of disrepair he was in.

The three left the Constructicon’s apartment, and Sunstreaker walked just behind Vortex through the merchant district toward their own, much nicer apartment building. From behind, he was better able to assess how much damage Smokescreen had suffered. His doorwings were dinged, his aft missing paint, and even the one tip of his chevron was missing.

Vortex entered the code to their building’s main entrance, then they all crammed into the lift.

“You were very well behaved,” Vortex said, looking at Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker nodded, and kept his gaze lowered.

“A reward will be forthcoming.” The door to the lift opened, and Vortex pushed Smokescreen forward, then wrapped the lead around his hand several times to shorten it as he yanked his newest prize toward their apartment.

Once inside, Vortex took Smokescreen to the room that Sunstreaker occupied. “He needs to detox. Hook has him on something much stronger that that slag Swindle pedals.” He shoved Smokescreen toward Sunstreaker’s berth, and the Praxian crawled on, laid back and spread his legs, panel opening to display his abused valve. Vortex visibly shuddered in disgust. “Shut that thing now!”

Smokescreen’s whited optics stared at Vortex, a touch of confusion on his face. Sunstreaker’s spark burned with anger at what had been done to this once jovial mech.

“I said to shut the cover!” Vortex bellowed.

Sunstreaker couldn’t be passive a moment longer, and quickly moved in, cupping his hand over the exposed valve. Smokescreen’s gaze shifted to him. “You don’t need to do that here. Close the panel up, Smokes.”

After a moment, Smokescreen nodded and the panel snapped back in place.

Vortex’s red visor focused sharply on Sunstreaker. “You know this one?”

“Yes, master,” Sunstreaker replied.

“His detox will take place here,” Vortex said, disdain in his voice.

Sunstreaker frowned, and nodded. Remembering his own experience with coming down from his drug induced state, his spark ached. This was going to be rough.

Vortex huffed. “I have a meeting to attend. You stay here and keep him from harming himself.”

“Yes, master,” Sunstreaker replied.

“I haven’t forgotten about your reward. When I return, I’ll let you have it,” Vortex said with an uncharacteristic rumble to his voice.

The large mech turned and stalked out, leaving Sunstreaker with Smokescreen. He sat on the edge of the berth next to his former comrade’s legs and sadly gazed at him. It would be nice to not be alone here anymore, but having to live with Vortex was no picnic. Over the last few months, his master had made strange demands of him, like wanting to watch Sunstreaker bathe in the washrack or asking him to sit on his lap while he read or watched old programs on the vid screen. Nothing overt, but it was clear Vortex found Sunstreaker attractive, even though the thought of interfacing with an Autobot was a vile concept to him.

Smokescreen softly whined. “Fuel low,” he mumbled.

“I’ll get you some,” Sunstreaker replied, getting to his feet and fetching a cube. When he returned, he tipped the glass up to Smokescreen’s lips, and watched him suck down the serving in greedy gulps that left trickles of fuel running down from the corners of his mouth. With his fingers, Sunstreaker wiped away the dribbled fuel. “I don’t know how much of this you’re gonna remember, but the key to being here with minimal torture is to do exactly what Vortex says.”

Smokescreen simply stared at Sunstreaker with eerie white optics, not really seeming to understand.

Sighing, Sunstreaker shook his head as he gently touched Smokescreen’s face. “I don’t envy how much this is going to suck for you.”

…

 

Vortex didn’t return for several hours. Sunstreaker was berthless, and ended up on the floor trying to recharge. Not easy to do when the Smokescreen started the detox process. He was whimpering and begging for the ‘special fuel’ while rolling around on the berth.

Sunstreaker would just start to drift off when Smokescreen would rouse him again by making some sort of noise.

The door to the apartment opened, and Sunstreaker turned his gaze toward his always open door to his room.

Vortex’s silhouette appeared. “He’s already started to come down I see.”

“Yes, master,” Sunstreaker said from his curled up position on the floor.

“Would you like your reward now?” Vortex asked.

 _Not really_ , Sunstreaker thought. “Yes, master,” he replied, pushing to sit up.

“Come to my berthroom. You can share my berth until he’s ready to be given to Tremorwave for repairs.” Vortex gestured with his arm for Sunstreaker to stand.

Sunstreaker stilled for a moment. _Share his berth?_ He didn’t hesitate too long, though. Last thing he wanted was to be stuffed into the room with the audio piercing noise as punishment. He got to his feet and proceeded down the short hallway to the room at the end.

Vortex walked in behind him and over to a chest of drawers, unlocking the top drawer and removing a small box and holding it out for Sunstreaker to take. “Your reward for being such an obedient pet these last few weeks.”

Taking hold of the box, Sunstreaker lifted the lid off. He frowned at the contents inside: a large false spike. “Thank you, master,” he said, voice barely audible.

“I’d like you to use it now,” Vortex said, that rumble returning to his voice again. “Show me how much you appreciate the gifts I give you.”

Part of Sunstreaker burned with deep-seated anger at the lewd gift. He wanted to take the false spike inside the gift box and rip that stupid mask off Vortex’s face and shove it down his intake.

“My pet, do you not like it? I made sure it would be a proper size for you,” Vortex said.

“Master, I’d prefer to use it another time,” Sunstreaker said, mouth tight as he spoke.

“Get on the berth now and use it or I will put you in the closet as punishment for your lack of appreciation,” Vortex replied, anger coloring his voice.

That was enough to break the small swell of rebellion inside Sunstreaker. With a soft sigh of resignation, he moved to the berth and he sat down. Taking the false spike from the box, he laid back on the berth and pressed a hand between his legs to massage the cover to his array.

Vortex was so strange. Repulsed by Smokescreen’s valve, but transfixed as Sunstreaker let the cover to his own open.

“Press your fingers inside first,” Vortex commanded.

Just when he was sure his life with this psychopath couldn’t get any more humiliating… Sunstreaker offlined his optics and sank two fingers into his valve, slowly pumping his fingers in and out.

“Suck on the toy,” Vortex commanded.

Sunstreaker bit back the urge to grumble and complain, instead obeying and opening his mouth, sliding the false spike past his lips. He kept his optics off, not wanting to see the glow of that red visor he knew was focused sharply on him.

He suckled the toy, and imagined someone else pleasuring him. Someone he loved deeply and missed very much. Red plating and black hands that could find every sensitive seam on his frame with ease, cute little helm horns that liked to lick and suck which usually led to soft whimpered moans, and the feeling of that perfectly shaped spike spreading him open. Sunstreaker moaned at his own fantasy of Sideswipe.

“Insert it into your valve now,” Vortex said, breaking the momentary spell.

Sunstreaker onlined his optics, noting that Vortex had moved to sit beside him on the berth. Pulling the false spike from his lips, he swirled his glossa around the end of it. If he was going to be required to perform, then he’d give his sick master a show. He spread his legs wide and slowly drew his fingers out and then pressed the false spike in until it almost disappeared into his valve.

Vortex’s internal fans kicked on.

Sunstreaker internally smirked. It sucked slag to be trapped here as this mech’s slave, to be paraded around as arm candy, but at moments like this Sunstreaker felt powerful again. Controlling and manipulating this mech’s desire at his will. He pulled the false spike out and then pushed it back in, arching his back slightly and moaning as it filled him. He repeated thrusting it in and out several times, making sure to moan as he did.

Reaching out, Vortex stilled Sunstreaker’s hands mid-motion with the false spike only partway inserted. “Let me.”

Unease returned at the request, and Sunstreaker frowned. “Yes, master,” he said, reluctantly letting go.

Vortex took hold of the end and pushed it almost all the way in, careful not to actually touch Sunstreaker’s valve. Then he began to pump it in and out slowly, his visor growing a dark shade of crimson. “For an Autobot, you’re… beautiful. Too bad I would never let my spike actually go inside you.” There was a soft snap of another interface cover opening.

Sunstreaker glanced over to see Vortex’s spike standing fully erect.

“While I won’t dirty myself with your valve, you may touch my spike with your hands,” Vortex said, pumping the false spike more intently.

It was a veiled command, but a command none-the-less. Sunstreaker couldn’t help but grimace as he reached over and tentatively touched the brass colored spike. It jerked at the light touch and Vortex rumbled his approval. “More. Hold it in your hand.”

Sunstreaker obeyed, wrapping his hand around it and massaging it slowly as he frowned. His own valve had lost any small charge he’d built up by fantasizing about his brother, so the toy was no longer sliding smoothly.

“Offline your optics. I want to see you writhe like you did before,” Vortex said.

Sunstreaker would happily follow that command. He offlined his optics and imaged this was Sideswipe with him not Vortex. Of course the spike felt totally different, thick and not nicely ridged but he forced himself to ignore the smaller details. He imaged those black hands were the ones using the toy to fill his valve over and over and soon the mesh walls slicked again and he moaned.

Vortex moaned in reply, disrupting the illusion, but it was only for a moment. Sunstreaker arched his chest and whimpered a little, his valve nice and sensitized now, sending little tremors of pleasure through his frame. The spike in his grasp was incredibly hard, throbbing on the edge of overload. Sunstreaker remembered the taste of his brother’s fluid over his glossa, the way it felt to be pounded ruthlessly with such intense passion. Sideswipe was the only mech Sunstreaker let spike him and the memories mixed with the stimulation pushed him over the edge. Sunstreaker suddenly cried out and overloaded, valve clamping down on the toy as Vortex shoved it all the way in, letting his thick fingers touch the rim of Sunstreaker’s spasming valve as he came.

Panting, cooling fans kicked on working to bring down his core temperature, Sunstreaker dimly lit his optics and continued to pump the spike in his hand. Vortex roared after only a few more squeezes, his spike exploding, fluid spurting in stream that splattered Sunstreaker's chest plate. In the final throes, more fluid escaped the head, coating his hand wrapped around it.

After a moment of heavily panting, Vortex grabbed Sunstreaker’s wrist, ripping his hand away from his spike. “Get in the wash rack. Clean yourself up.”

Sunstreaker started to pull the toy free, and Vortex slapped his hand away. “Leave it.”

Unable to help himself, Sunstreaker growled a little. “I’ll be sore if I do that, _master_.”

“Washrack, _now_.” Vortex pointed, his voice going ice cold.

Complying, Sunstreaker gingerly slid off the berth and walked awkwardly to the washrack with the toy still lodged in place. He didn’t bother to hide his anger, grumbling as he stepped into the stall and began to rinse off the stink of Vortex’s overload from his frame.

Vortex had followed him in, standing just outside the stall and watching him in silence. Sunstreaker’s somewhat defiant air didn’t seem to bother his master, though. When he caught a glimpse of his vouyer, he grimaced, noticing his spike was at full attention again. He turned away, moving under the water and scrubbing solvent all over his frame. Was this how things would be from now on? Primus, he hoped not.

…

 

Smokescreen had been gone for three days for repairs after finishing his detox and was due back this afternoon. Sunstreaker was finally able to use his own berth again while he was gone and lamented what he suspected would happen once he returned.

Sharing a berth with Vortex had been miserable. He’d been forced to self pleasure as his master jerked himself off while watching. Luckily he’d not touched Sunstreaker again or asked Sunstreaker to touch him. Apparently the initial incident had disturbed Vortex enough to remove touching from the equation. Though, Sunstreaker knew it was only a matter of time before that changed.

He carefully cleaned the berth for Smokescreen’s return, and neatened up his small room. When Smokescreen had finally started to sober, Sunstreaker filled him in on how to behave and the punishment closet. It was bad enough he’d had to endure it, he didn’t want his friend to have to suffer, too.

The door chimed, and Vortex’s footfall could be heard in the apartment. Sunstreaker peered out the open door from his room and was met with a disapproving glare from his master. “I didn’t say you could leave your space.”

“Yes, master,” Sunstreaker replied as he ducked back into his room. He fragging hated that mech. As horrible as it had been to be used as Motormaster’s pleasure bot, at least he’d been too drugged up to care. Here, he was painfully aware of his daily humiliation and degradation.

“He looks much better,” Vortex said out in the main living area.

“Constructicons really did a number on him, but with my repairs and a quick dip in the regen tank, he’s back to a healthy state,” Tremorwave replied.

“Thank you for making him presentable again,” Vortex replied.

“Of course. Would you like me to check over your other Autobot for free?” Tremorwave asked.

There was a pause. “Autobot, you may come out,” Vortex said, voice booming his command.

Sunstreaker tentatively stepped out, and walked to the main living area. He looked at Smokescreen who was utterly silent and sort of staring off into nowhere. His plating was pristine again, shades of blue, red, white and yellow.

“Let me look at you a moment, hm?” Tremorwave pinched Sunstreaker’s chin between his fingers and pulled his face down to gaze into his optics. “Nice and clear, good color for his optics. You’re keeping him well fueled I see.” His hands then felt around Sunstreaker’s frame, checking plate seams. “There’s a little build up in his transformation seams from lack of use. I’ve noticed this condition with many of the Autobots I’ve been seeing lately. For Smokescreen, I had him transform a few times and then carefully cleaned the gunky build up. Would do yours a world of good to do the same.”

“I’ll see to his care then,” Vortex replied.

“Otherwise, he’s in excellent health.” Tremorwave smiled and lightly patted Suntreaker’s arm.

“I do my best to care for my property,” Vortex said, clearly preening at the praise from the medic.

“Well, I’m off,” Tremorwave said with a wave. “Need anything at all, let me know.”

Vortex dipped his head in a nod as the medic slipped out. He then walked over to Smokescreen and circled him, examining him carefully.

Sunstreaker stood awkwardly where he was, unsure if he should leave or not.

“Praxian builds are rare and desired. I was in a bidding war with Thundercracker over one when the auctions first started,” Vortex said. “He’s not as beautiful as you, my lovely golden Autobot, but he’s quite nice to look at and so broken and obedient already.”

Back-handed insult about his own defiant attitude aside, Sunstreaker did worry about how much emotional and mental damage Smokescreen appeared to have suffered. He’d once been a rebellious risk taker, but even once the drugs left his system he’d remained quiet and willing to do whatever was asked of him.

"He's yours to look after now that he's back in good condition," Vortex announced. He looked at Sunstreaker, red visor darkening. "A surprise gift. So you won't be lonely."

Was Vortex fragging joking?

"Thank you, master," Sunstreaker replied, unsure why Vortex was doing this.

"I wasn't sure I'd end up giving him to you since you often tend to be hostile and defiant with me, but to be perfectly honest–" Vortex walked over to Sunstreaker, staring intently at him. "–You're quite beautiful when you're angry."

Sunstreaker grimaced a little. He wasn't sure what to think about being desired for being his usual glitched self. It fell short of being a compliment. "I'll share the room with him?"

"A larger berth is on order you'll both fit in comfortably," Vortex replied. "It should be delivered any day. You will continue to spend your evenings in my berth, possibly with your new pet, I haven't decided yet, but either way after performing for me you'll return to your room."

"Yes, master," Sunstreaker replied. So this is how it would now be? The longer he stayed here the more he could feel himself losing his last shreds of respect and decency.


	3. Unexpected Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz, Prowl and Red Alert are forced to perform for Megatron's amusement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic scene of forced sexual interfacing ahead.

Shockwave’s living area on the compound:

 

Prowl stood still as Shockwave moved around him slowly inspecting his plating carefully. “This meeting will be with Megatron, Soundwave, Starscream and myself. Megatron has asked we each bring our Autobots with. It’s imperative you act as submissively as possible. Optics on the floor, never look at any of the officers. You have excellent control over your doorwings, but be extra vigilant to remain composed and as quiet as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Prowl replied. A meeting with Megatron? Prowl’s first trip off the compound other than to see the medic would be to an all officers meeting. He normally wouldn’t feel so rattled, but the way Shockwave spoke, there was something more to this. He could sense it. But what?

 

Soundwave’s wash rack:

 

Pushing the buffer over Jazz’s plating, Soundwave brought out a high shine. “Megatron requests Autobots to attend with officers. Important to comply with any command he may give,” Soundwave intoned.

“Any?” Jazz felt his spark contract a little. “He’s gonna order me around?”

“It is likely.” Soundwave finished, then carefully inspected Jazz’s body for any possible imperfections.

Jazz was still getting used to his master’s new found closeness. He liked it, though. After several nights of uninterrupted recharge with him, Jazz had been able to overload Blue so hard he offlined yesterday. He smiled a little thinking about how pretty he’d looked arching and crying out while his doorwings fluttered.

“Dermal plating warming,” Soundwave said, visor tilting to look at Jazz.

“Sorry. Good memories from yesterday,” he said with grin.

Standing back up to his full height, Soundwave placed a hand on Jazz’s shoulder. “This meeting will not give Jazz good memories. I cannot protect you from this, though.”

A shiver ran down Jazz’s spinal unit.

“If you choose, I will leave you with Thundercracker for the evening to seek comfort with his Autobot,” Soundwave said.

“What’s gonna happen?” Jazz asked.

“Particulars on situation unknown.” Soundwave gently pet one of his audio horns. “Interfacing may be requested.”

The comment sent a small shudder through Jazz. Interface with who? Or maybe he didn’t want to know...

 

Megatron’s suite, top level of apartment complex:

 

At an oblong table sat Megatron and his top officers. Prowl as well as Jazz and Red Alert were kneeled on the floor beside each of their masters.

There was a deep sense of foreboding inside Prowl’s spark. Jazz looked sullen, not his usual bright self. Even as a slave he’d been generally in good cheer.

“Starscream, report on the flyers rebellion,” Megatron said, fingers drumming the table lightly.

“Quashed. The captured fliers have all been processed and are at Swindle’s compound for auction,” Starscream replied. “Though, I plan on snagging a particular white shuttle for myself.”

“And that ship that slipped past our network and escaped the planet? Has it been located yet?” Megatron asked, with a growl to his voice.

“No, my lord. But I sent Turmoil after it. I’m sure he’ll report in once he’s located it. He’s the best tracker we have,” Starscream said, his voice pitching up as he spoke.

“He’s also unstable. Monitor the situation carefully or there will be consequences for you, my dear Starscream.” Megatron huffed, and then looked at Soundwave. “Report on the energon situation.”

“Reserves sufficient for one year. Time span more than enough to secure outside sources. Constructicons report cargo of ship already one quarter full of suitable raw materials,” Soundwave intoned.

“Excellent.” Megatron smiled, obviously pleased with the progress. He then looked at Shockwave. “Rebuilding has picked up. I saw the arena was finished recently. What other projects do you have slated, Shockwave?”

“Another apartment complex for the Decepticons returning from deep space is underway to alleviate the overcrowding in the two other complexes.” Shockwave then slid a datapad toward his leader. “There are some other projects I have drafted up. If any are appealing, please let me know.”

Megatron picked up the pad and hummed a little as he flipped through the projects Prowl had helped Shockwave prepare for review. “Several of these would be good additions. I’ll review them in detail and let you know.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Shockwave replied.

“Is there anything else?” Megatron asked as he set the datapad back down.

“No, my lord,” they all said almost in unison.

“Then let us retire to the lounge.” Megatron got to his feet and sauntered into an adjoining room.

The officers each stood. Starscream yanked the lead to Red Alert’s collar, jerking him to his feet. Both Prowl and Jazz quickly stood, and they all proceeded into the next room.

“Remove his lead,” Megatron said as he settled into a chair next to a low level table.

Starscream complied. Red Alert was so drugged, the lead was pointless. He didn’t even move once it was off. Megatron then looked at Prowl. “Shockwave, have yours sit on the table.”

Confused, Prowl looked up at his master. Shockwave placed a hand to his back. “Do as Lord Megatron asks.”

 _Stay calm, don’t show your fear_ , Prowl told himself as he stepped forward and then sat down on the edge of the table.

Megatron leaned forward and pinched Prowl’s chin with his fingers, lifting his head up to meet his gaze. “Shockwave keeps you hidden away on that compound of his. Tell me, what did it feel like when you watched me rip your beloved Prime’s spark out? Do you still have memory feedback from it, little Prowl?” Sneering, Megatron let go. “Don’t speak. Only do as I say. Understood?”

Prowl looked down and nodded.

“Bring Red Alert here,” Megatron said as he gestured to Starscream.

Starscream pushed the former security officer over. Megatron pulled Red Alert close, and began to pet his plating. “I do love scuffing a nice finish. So smooth. Excellent work for once, Starscream.” His large hand moved down over Red Alert’s chestplate. He then looked over at Jazz. “And yours, Soundwave. Bring him here.”

Soundwave gently guided Jazz over. Megatron let go of Red Alert, grabbing Jazz by the hand and pulling him in close. He ran his large fingers over the curve of Jazz’s chest and down his abdomen. “He’s practically glowing, buffed to a high shine,” Megatron murmured approvingly.

“Stand up little Prowl and come here,” Megatron commanded.

Prowl got to his feet and reluctantly moved in close enough to be man handled as well. Large hands moved over his chest, then he turned Prowl by his hips and pet over his doorwings. “Not as glossy a finish, but your other attributes more than make up for it.” He spun him back around by the hips. “Now to see how well trained Soundwave and Shockwave keep their little pets.” A dark smile curved his lips. “Prowl, lie down on the table, your head toward me. Open your interface panel and spread your legs.”

Prowl’s vents hitched at the request. He knew he had no other choice than to comply, though. He did as he was told, cold dread pulsing deep inside his spark as he laid back and opened his panel. Of course in this position, Soundwave, Starscream and Shockwave were treated to a full view. Shame burned in his lines at the humiliation of it.

“May I warm him up for you?” Starscream asked, a hungry look in his optics.

“I must protest. He’s my slave, Lord Megatron. If it pleases you, I could perform whatever you’d like with him,” Shockwave quickly cut in.

“Very well,” Megatron replied, pulling Jazz to one side and Red Alert to the other, wrapping his large arms around them. “See if you can draw an overload from little Prowl with your hands–well  _hand_.”

“Yes, my lord.” Shockwave moved in and sat on the table beside Prowl. With his singular optic, it was hard to tell if Shockwave was regretful or not. In truth, Prowl wasn’t sure which was worse, Starscream or Shockwave violating his body for Megatron’s pleasure.

Tentative fingers brushed over his valve entrance, circling the rim slowly before a large lavender finger sank inside him. The finger curled against the mesh lining, stretching it before pulling out and then inserting two fingers. Shockwave began to pump them in and out slowly at first, and to Prowl’s shame, he felt his valve become slick. Soon a warm familiar heat tingled in his array. Shockwave was surprisingly good at manual manipulation of a valve. He’d curve his fingers just the right way to touch sensitive bundles of nodes, sending little zings of pleasure through Prowl's entire pelvic area. Prowl shivered, and offlined his optics.

“Keep your optics on,” Shockwave said. “Look at me.”

Prowl obeyed, looking into that yellow optic again.

“He’s very obedient, indeed,” Megatron rumbled approvingly.

Humiliation and shame made him whimper just a little. Prowl was going to overload in front of all these mechs. He could feel it.

“I’m going to count down now,” Shockwave said, voice unusually smooth and almost warm. “When I get to one, you will overload.”

Mentally grasping the order Shockwave gave him, he whimpered again.

“Five.” Shockwave’s fingers stroked a deep set of nodes and Prowl trembled. “Four.” Three fingers stretched and filled him. “Three.” They pumped faster now, curving as he pulled them in and out to stimulate another bundle of nodes. “Two.” Heat and pleasure overtook his shame. And suddenly all Prowl wanted was to overload so it would over. “One. Overload, Prowl.”

Arching his body, Prowl let go and did as he was told. Mouth gaped in a soundless moan, he shuddered and gave into the cascade of pleasure that sang through his array. Those were some incredibly talented fingers his master had. Sagging back down on the table, he shivered with a small aftershock as lavender digits slid free of his valve.

“Have him lick them clean,” Megatron commanded.

To anyone else, Shockwave’s movement to comply was seamless, but Prowl saw a flicker in his golden optic and a split second of hesitation before he pressed his fingers to Prowl’s lips. He immediately parted them, and one by one, swirled his glossa around each, tasting himself as he cleaned them. Once he was done, Shockwave stood and joined Soundwave and Starscream.

“Very nice indeed.” Megatron slapped Red Alert’s aft. “How would you like to ride a pair of spikes this evening?”

Red Alert nodded his head.

“Very good. First you go be a good little pet and work on Prowl’s spike,” Megatron commanded.

Without any hesitation, Red Alert crawled over top of Prowl. He wrapped his hand around his exposed spike and began to squeeze and work it into a harder shape.

Meanwhile Megatron moved Jazz to stand between his legs and pet over his smooth plating. “While we wait, how about a look at the former third-in-command’s array, hm? Open up.”

Jazz didn’t falter, letting the cover snap back. Megatron’s fingers cradled his limp spike. “Lovely black and white detailing. Must have cost quite a bit to have done pre-war, hm? Get down on your knees and get yourself hard for Red Alert.”

Dropping down, Jazz did his best to not make a grimace as he took hold of his spike. At least he didn’t have to see Prowl and Red Alert right now. The sound of a interface cover snapping back drew his attention up. Before him was a large, ridged gunmetal grey spike with red stripes down each side.

“I, too, had my spike modded. You like?” Megatron asked, sneering. He grabbed Jazz by an audio horn and yanked him in so his mouth was pressed against the tip. “Swallow.”

Mouth opening wide, he pressed his head forward, taking in the huge spike until he couldn’t anymore. He was shy of the whole shaft by a few micrometers.

“Hm, Won’t work from this angle.” Megatron used his helm horn to pry him off his spike. “Lie down on the table next to your former comrade.”

Jazz nodded, and got to his feet. Turning he saw a sorrowful look in Prowl’s optics as Red Alert scooted back and began to suck on Prowl’s partially onlined spike. Jazz got on the table and laid on his back beside his good friend. With Starscream, Shockwave and Soundwave standing and watching, he felt exposed and painfully vulnerable.

Megatron scooted to the edge of his chair and then got on his knees, moving over to Jazz. Roughly grasping Jazz's arms, he pulled him so his helm tipped backward over the edge of the table and then shoved his spike against his mouth again. “Should fit now.”

Opening wide, Jazz tensed as the spike was shoved so far it went partway into his intake causing him to gag. “Relax your intake!” Megatron chided.

It took a moment, but Jazz was able to comply, relaxing the top portion enough to fit the head. Megatron sighed his contentment. “Very tight, and very nice. I can see why you chose this one, Soundwave. He’s not only very pretty, but practically a custom fit.”

Large black hands groped Jazz’s body up and down as he began to self pleasure using his mouth. He moaned a little and Jazz felt the large spike throbbing inside his mouth and intake. It was almost enough to cause him to purge, but he clamped down his emotions, relying on his Special Ops training to help him detach. The goal was to survive in tact. Endure whatever he had to make it out of here, hopefully walking.

“Red Alert, my little whore, Prowl looks ready. Seat yourself and then tend to Jazz,” Megatron crooned.

Obeying, Red Alert crawled up and slid Prowl’s spike inside his well-used valve, then bend over and began to suckle and lick Jazz’s. Buried in the slick heat of his former head of security, Prowl’s spark ached. How was he supposed to do this? Force himself? His spike was barely pressurized. There was no pleasure from this.

Withdrawing his large spike from Jazz’s mouth, Megatron got to his feet, towering over the three. “Jazz, join Prowl inside Red Alert. He’s got plenty of room.”

Red Alert’s white optics brightened and he stopped teasing Jazz’s spike. He looked up at Megatron, dimly smiling. “Two at once feels good.”

Megatron cupped Red Alerts face and then shoved his spike in it, which Red Alert easily accepted. “Only speak when asked a question.”

Starscream snickered.

Jazz reluctantly got up and knelt behind Red Alert, straddling Prowl’s legs and pushing his semi-onlined spike in along side Prowl’s. The little hum of enjoyment Red Alert made as he entered made his fuel tank churn. He could feel Prowl was about as turned on as he was, which was barely at all. Lucky for them, Red Alert didn’t seem to care, rocking his hips and basically just ‘facing himself on the unwilling participants’ spikes.

“What a lovely sight. Prime’s most trusted officers, now slaves to my own most trusted officers, interfacing together.” Megatron pulled his spike from Red Alert’s mouth. “How does it feel, little Red?”

“Nice,” Red Alert replied, breathy.

“Will you overload, or should they put more effort in?” Megatron asked.

“More in…” Red Alert whined.

“You heard him. Give him what he wants.” Megatron sat down in his chair and patted his leg. “Starscream. Come tend to me while we all watch.”

The Air commander walked over and sat down on his leader’s leg, hand finding Megatron’s spike and palming it as they both focused on the show.

Jazz buried his face in the back of Red Alert’s neck, mouthing and licking the various cables. The sooner they got Red Alert to overload, the sooner this would end. He drew on memories of being with Bluestreak to kick start his arousal. Pushing his beautiful body up against the washrack wall and sinking into his still slicked valve… Jazz moaned a little at the memory.

Prowl could feel Jazz’s spike start to throb against his, and tried to understand what had changed to turn him on. He struggled to even keep his spike erect.

“Memories,” Jazz whispered, as if sensing Prowl’s struggle.

That was a brilliant idea. Prowl offlined his optics and brought up a recent memory of being with Sideswipe. How good he felt to sink into his valve, the sounds he’d make when Prowl would kiss the healed wounds on his chest as he thrust into him.

“Oh, look at them!” Starscream said, voice dripping with approval.

Red Alert whimpered.

“Indeed.” Megatron groaned a little, enjoying Starscream’s fingers over his spike. “Are they going to bring you an overload, little Red?”

“Oh yes!” Red Alert keened, and then moaned. “Fill me with all the fluid you have!”

It was hard to focus on memories when they talked, but Jazz was determined to get through this in one piece. If that meant forcing himself into an overload, so be it. He brought up another memory of Bluestreak bent over one of the lounge chairs and watching his doorwings quiver and bounce as he impaled him over and over.

Prowl held fast to his memory of interfacing with Sideswipe. Replaying it over and over, slowing the part where Sideswipe would roll his head back and shudder in the throes of overload.

Red Alert’s cry of pure pleasure was matched by Prowl and Jazz as his valve squeezed them tightly together inside him. Prowl felt more than just the heat of Red Alert’s valve. The hot electrical charge of fluid had to be from Jazz. Prowl thrust more in earnest, not wanting to fail his part. Suddenly a shallow overload claimed him, just enough to cause his spike to release and add to the messy valve.

“Oh, so good,” Red Alert moaned, sinking down over Prowl.

Megatron’s optics were sharply focused on them, and then he suddenly pulled Starscream off his leg. As if knowing already what the sick warlord wanted, Starscream bared his valve and spread his legs over Megatron’s lap. He was then pulled down on the large spike by the hips, and keened. He then started to bounce over the spike, drawing a moan from Megatron.

Suddenly, Megatron stood, one arm wrapped around Starscream so he didn’t pull out, while the other shoved the three of them off the table in a clatter. He slammed Starscream down front first and grunted as he pounded his large spike into him over and over.

“Master is so pretty,” Red Alert murmured as he sat himself up.

Prowl and Jazz both stared at Red Alert deeply disturbed. What had happened to him? Why was he like this? It couldn’t all be the drugs, could it?

“Oh my lord! Claim me!” Starscream cried out, wings fluttering on his back.

“Mine!” Megatron roared, impaling the valve at his mercy to the hilt and overloading with roar.

Prowl felt like his processor was spinning. How in the name of Primus had these mechs won the war? They were perversions of Cybertronians.

Jazz watched with a detached gaze, seeing the true nature of Megatron and Starscream exposed fully. He then glanced at Soundwave, and wondered who these two used to get themselves worked up before there were Autobot slaves around? Was this the source of Soundwave’s desire to not be touched?

Pulling out of Starscream slowly, Megatron smiled at the thread of fluid connecting his spike to his valve of choice. He then looked at Soundwave and Shockwave. “Take your slaves and go. Starscream and I have more to do here.”

“Yes, my lord,” they replied in unison.

Jazz got to his feet first, helping Prowl stand, and they followed their masters out of this place of horrors.

 

In the shuttle back to Shockwave’s compound:

 

The minute they boarded, Shockwave wrapped a large blanket around Prowl and led him to a comfortable seat in the back. “Would you like me to leave you be?” Shockwave asked.

“Not really. I want to know why you didn’t tell me what might happen ahead of time,” Prowl said, optics narrowing on Shockwave.

Sitting down across from Prowl, Shockwave dimmed his optic. “I had hoped it wouldn’t end that way. He doesn’t always involve others, often enjoying throwing Starscream down on the meeting table when they have spats. Still, I should have better warned you.”

“How am I supposed to face the others now?” Prowl frowned. “Face Sideswipe,” he murmured. “You  _overloaded_ me in front of all them. I’ve been tolerating your affectionate behavior, but this…”

“Had Starscream had his way, you would not have walked out of the room. It was kinder to violate you myself. I’m incredibly sorry. If it’s any consolation, I tried to make it feel good for you,” Shockwave explained, regret in his voice.

A shudder ran through Prowl as he curled in on himself in the blanket. “I don’t know what disturbs me more, that it was the lesser evil to have you do that to me or that it did feel good.” Tears welled on his optics, but he refused to give into the urge to cry. He could do that later. Right now, he wanted to feel like he had some small sense dignity left.

Shockwave made no more more attempts to justify his actions, remaining mute for the rest of the short ride as Prowl mentally withdrew. His spark felt like it was being crushed from the weight of all that just happened.

The shuttle landed, but Prowl didn't move.

Shockwave stood. “We must disembark.”

Prowl sucked in a deep breath of air and steadied himself before he nodded and got to his feet, following his master off the shuttle and into the compound. He froze just inside the lobby door, staring down the twisting corridor that he knew led to the others. That led to Sideswipe.

“I can’t,” Prowl whispered. "I just, I can't see them right now."

“If it’s not a further violation, I’m happy to offer you the spare room in my suite. You can clean up and I won’t bother you. I’ll stay in my main study,” Shockwave offered.

Lesser of two evils. “No touching me. Not on the back, arm,  _anywhere_.” Prowl hardened his gaze.

Shockwave’s golden optic dimmed. “No touching. I promise.”

Prowl shuffled down the main hallway just in front of Shockwave toward his suite with the blanket still wrapped around him. He now had a glimpse of what the others were suffering, and it make him want to purge. A deep despair started to overcome him. He couldn’t even help himself, how could ever hope to help others?

Soundwave’s apartment:

 

Walking inside, Jazz cringed when Rumble and Frenzy appeared. They were the very last things he wanted to deal with right now. Soundwave seemed to sense his distress, and moved forward.

“What stinks?” Frenzy said, looking at Jazz.

“Not another word,” Soundwave replied. “Go to your rooms now.” Even with a monotone voice, his command was stern and left no room for argument. The mini-cassettes immediately scattered.

Relief washed through Jazz, and he started to veer off to his own room.

“You need tending to,” Soundwave said. “Wash rack first?”

Jazz stared at him, and frowned. “‘Kay.” He felt broken in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He’d endured some fragged up things in his time, but what he’d just been forced to be a part of was way off the scales.

He proceeded to wash rack, and stepped inside the stall. He stared blankly at the wall for a moment.

“Bluestreak would offer more comfort,” Soundwave said, lowering the volume of his voice with a sympathetic undertone.

“I can’t. I mean. I…” Jazz sighed. “Maybe tomorrow. Right now, I just need to try and get my head in order.”

Soundwave nodded once, then started to walk out to leave Jazz alone to wash.

“Sounders?”

Pausing at the doorway, Soundwave looked back at Jazz. “Question?”

“About a zillion questions, but the big one is… Well, is that why you don’t like interfacin’? Or being touched?” Jazz asked.

Red visor dimming, Soundwave gave a small nod. “No one was available to comfort me, I want to give you better than I had.”

Jazz sadly smiled. “When I’m all cleaned up, think I can play the holo-guitar for a bit?”

“Anything you desire,” Soundwave replied. “Energon and holo-guitar will be waiting in our berthroom.” The larger mech then disappeared out the door.

“Our?” Jazz repeated, surprised by the use of that word.

Was it weird to feel even closer to Soundwave now? Jazz frowned and turned on the water flow. He stood under the spray, letting it envelope him in its rhythmic warmth. After a few minutes, he grabbed a bottle of cleanser and poured it into his hands. He opened his array and used his cleanser soaked hands to clean his spike first, while trying to not remember how it felt pressed against Prowl's inside Red Alert. He scrubbed it hard enough he felt the sensitive plating bruise slightly. Done with that part, he snapped the cover back in place.

He then took a cloth and began to rub at his plating where Megatron had groped him while using his mouth like valve. That thought made his fuel tank give an uneasy gurgle. He pressed a hand to the wall and leaned over, letting that sick feeling take over. What little fuel was left in his tank burned as it came up his intake and he purged.

There was something satisfying about expelling fuel after an incident like that. He used to do it in his early Special Ops days. It always made him feel better despite the dizziness from low fuel. When he drank a fresh cube afterward it felt like a renewal of sorts. Starting over.

Straightening, he quickly rinsed and then turned off the sprayer. He stumbled trying to reach the drying cloth just outside the stall, landing hard on his knees.

Soundwave appeared in the doorway. "Did you sustain injury?"

The world tipped sideways, and Jazz was unable to find his bearings. He'd purged too much of his fuel and was on the verge of passing out. Soundwave moved in quickly, wrapping a cloth around Jazz and scooping him up into arms.

"Jussst neeeed fuel," Jazz slurred.

Soundwave laid him on the berth, lifting his head and carefully pouring the energon he'd retrieved earlier into his mouth. Jazz eagerly swallowed. It tasted fresh and almost sweet. It hit his empty tank and his body immediately converted it. Reality stabilized and he reached up, taking over holding the glass as he finished.

"You should not be under fueled," Soundwave said, a slight waver in his monotone voice indicating his confusion.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare ya." Jazz sat up, setting the empty glass on the berthside table before wrapping the cloth around him. "Kinda purged in the stall."

Reaching up, Soundwave pet one of Jazz's helm horns that been used as handles earlier. He leaned into the much gentler touch.

"My apologies for the bad memory today's meeting brought you," Soundwave said.

"I'm tough. I'll be fine," Jazz assured his master. "Just do me a favor and make sure Prowl is okay, too? When you talk to Shockwave next?"

"Affirmative. His condition will be followed up on," Soundwave replied. "Do you require more fuel?"

"Nah. I'm okay now. Just wanna play some music for a while, if that's cool," Jazz said with small smile.

"Anything you desire," Soundwave replied as he reached over for the holo-guitar he'd already set out on the berth and handed it off to Jazz.

Making himself comfortable, Jazz let the drying cloth drape around his shoulders and set the guitar in his lap, fingers dancing up the neck to play a quick set of scales. He then began to play a slow, sad melodic song that filled the room. Escapism at its best. Only him, the music, and one very interested audience member. If only all his moments in this post-war life could be so serene.


	4. Survival of the Obedient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smokescreen starts to come out his mental haze, and Sunstreaker continues to struggle with Vortex's love of humiliation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of forced everything. Please heed all tags.

"Oh, just like that," Vortex groaned, kneeled on the berth beside Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker tuned out his voice, sinking deep into the memories of a time when he and Sideswipe were so close. The feeling of his brother's weight over him, his spike spreading his valve wide.

Moaning, Sunstreaker arched his chest, pumping the false spike harder and faster until he finally felt his body seize and pleasure cascaded through his array with release.

"Beautiful!" Vortex cried out as he overloaded, spilling fluid over Sunstreaker's chest. He sat back and admired his work. "Now even _more_ beautiful."

The stink of his master's overload made Sunstreaker grimace and took away what small glimmer of enjoyment Sunstreaker felt.

"Go get cleaned up." Vortex's visor darkened. "And no removing the toy until I say."

"Yes, master," Sunsteaker replied, unable to keep his annoyance out of voice.

Awkwardly walking to the washrack, Sunstreaker stepped inside the stall and turned on the sprayer. His valve ached around the toy, and he had to move carefully, not wanting to let it slip out. Vortex would undoubtedly punish him if that happened.

He poured cleanser into his hands and began to wash away the evidence of fluid splattered over his plating.

The sound of grunts and sighs caught his audio, though. Sunstreaker glanced over his shoulder, treated the disgusting sight of Vortex jerking off yet again.

The larger mech stumbled to the edge of the stall. "Come closer," he demanded with a whine to his voice.

Sunstreaker stiffly moved over, feeling the toy shift against the lining mesh with his steps. Vortex roared as he overloaded yet again, aiming the stream at Sunstreaker. A jagged line of warm fluid landed on his pelvis and down his thighs.

Vortex chuckled as he drank in the view. "Bet you wish I'd come inside you instead, hm?"

"Not really, master," Sunstreaker said without thinking.

A hand slapped him across the face so hard he stumbled a step.

"Always 'yes, master'. Understand?" Vortex said anger rumbling deep in his chassis.

"Yes, master," Sunstreaker replied, rubbing his cheek plate.

"I'm done with your ungrateful aft for tonight." Vortex reached between Sunstreaker's legs and pulled the toy out, then tossed it to the floor of the stall. "Clean up and go to your room. No coming out until tomorrow night and no energon for you or your pet tomorrow." Vortex stalked back out, his blades ruffling on his back as he left.

Sunstreaker growled as he stepped back under the water, scrubbing his plating clean all over again. He snatched the toy from the floor and rinsed it off, too. His posture sagged as he stared at the false spike in his hands. He fragging hated Vortex, but he needed to try his best to please him in order to shield Smokescreen.

Returning to their room, Sunstreaker paused just inside the door. Smokescreen was sitting on the new berth, leaned against the wall and staring off into nowhere. The berth had just been delivered earlier in the day and this would be their first night sharing it.

"How's the new berth?" Sunstreaker asked as he moved to put the false spike away.

Smokescreen still hadn't spoken. It had been a few days now, and Sunstreaker was starting to really worry. He wasn't equipped to help his comrade, being just another warrior and nothing more. He wished he’d had some kind of psyche training, instead he felt pretty useless. Sunstreaker sat down on the edge of the berth and sighed.

"They'd take turns."

Startled by the unexpected words, Sunstreaker snapped his attention to Smokescreen. "Smokes?"

"Hook gave me energon but it was always spiked with different concoctions. Sometimes I'd lose the ability to move. I'd lie limp, and they'd just use me how they wanted," Smokescreen said, voice rough sounding from lack of use.

"I'm so sorry," Sunstreaker said, turning partway to better face Smokescreen.

Blue optics that had been staring into nothingness focused on Sunstreaker. "Scrapper, Mix Master, Long Arm and Bonecrusher would just take turns back to back. I was so out of it, I could sort of detach and not really care. But with Hook-" His doorwings lowered, scraping against the wall behind him. "Hook liked to cut into my plating, make me scream until my vocalizer fritzed out, then he'd repair me."

Sunstreaker was silent. What could he say? He'd endured endless sessions of rape at Motormaster's hands, so he at the very least he understood what Smokescreen was feeling.

"Does Vortex hurt you?" Smokescreen asked, voice hushed.

"No, not that way," Sunstreaker replied.

"Doesn't even look at me. He's obsessed with you," Smokescreen said with a sad smile.

"It's better that way. I'll do my best to look out for you," Sunstreaker replied, frowning as he remembered that they'd be denied energon until tomorrow evening.

Smokescreen gazed at Sunstreaker. "I'm glad I'm not alone now."

"Me, too," Sunstreaker replied.

Smokescreen shifted his legs and laid down on one side of the berth to make room for Sunstreaker. "You look tired," Smokescreen commented as he patted the open area of the berth.

He _was_ exhausted and wanted nothing more than to have a full, uninterrupted recharge cycle. Trying to rest beside Vortex the last few days had been nearly impossible. The large mech often shifted in recharge, blades scraping the berth or hitting Sunstreaker.

"I am." Crawling to the open space, Sunstreaker laid back and sighed.

To his surprise, Smokescreen moved in and snuggled up against his side.

"Thanks for everything. I know I'm a mess." Smokescreen pressed close, his doorwings relaxing.

"We're all a mess," Sunstreaker said in a listless tone.

"Sure are," Smokescreen quietly replied.

...

 

The sound of Vortex stalking around the apartment roused Sunstreaker. He dimly lit his optics, seeing Smokescreen clinging to his arm, blue optics darting around.

Sunstreaker reached up with his other arm, lightly ghosting his fingertips over Smokescreen's chevron. "You're safe," he whispered.

Smokescreen nodded, then buried his face against Sunstreaker's shoulder, doorwings lightly trembling.

"I'm going to be gone most of the day. The energon dispenser if off limits. If you take so much as one drop I'll know," Vortex said as he walked into the room. "And I'll punish _both_ of you."

Smokescreen's doorwings trembled more.

"We won't leave this room," Sunstreaker replied, frowning. _Go away you glitch, you're upsetting Smokescreen_ , he mentally added.

Vortex regarded the Praxian for a moment. "I see he's come out of his comatose state. If he's not obedient enough for you, I'll train him properly."

"I'll do whatever you want, master," Smokescreen said, lifting his head up just enough to look at their master.

Vortex snickered. "You're to obey your beautiful roommate, disgusting shareware slave. Do as _he_ desires."

"Yes, master. I'll please Sunstreaker," Smokescreen replied.

"Best you do," Vortex replied. He then spun around and walked out. A few moments later they could hear him leave the apartment.

Sunstreaker glanced at Smokescreen. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Smokescreen frowned. "I'll do whatever you want."

"You're not my slave no matter what that aft thinks," Sunstreaker replied. "Understand?"

Smokescreen nodded.

"Just let me protect you," Sunstreaker replied, gently rubbing the yellow chevron again. Smokescreen relaxed some, pressing into the affectionate touch.

"I liked being drugged. I didn't feel anything that way." Smokescreen sadly frowned.

Sunstreaker nuzzled the top of Smokescreen helm. "Yeah. It's easier to endure all this slag high, but Vortex is all about control and humiliation. He wants us sober to suffer more."

Smokescreen nodded and then looked at Sunstreaker with pleading optics. "Hold me?" he asked, his voice just barely audible.

Pulling Smokescreen into his arms, Sunstreaker gently stroked the middle of his back, offering comfort. Everything that happened seemed to catch up with the smaller mech in an instant, and Sunstreaker could feel his body shaking as he began to cry.

"I've got you," Sunstreaker said, voice smooth and warm. "Cry all you want or need to while he's gone."

 

...

 

Vortex sat in his large plush chair in the main living area. He gestured to Sunstreaker and patted his lap. Sunstreaker complied with the unspoken request, moving from where he stood with Smokescreen against the wall and sitting on his leg. Large hands stroked his plating. "Your pet behaving well for you?"

"Yes, master," Sunstreaker replied.

"Three weeks and you have yet to properly break him in, though?" Vortex asked, fingers moving to stroke Sunstreaker's interface cover.

"I get all I need from my time with you, master," Sunstreaker replied.

Vortex traced the edges of his panel as he hummed while considering the truth of Sunstreaker's claim. "Overloading your valve only, though." He traced a line up the middle of Sunstreaker's pelvic area. "I had hoped your pet would satisfy the needs of your spike."

"My valve is enough, master," Sunstreaker replied.

"Shareware slave, come here," Vortex commanded, pointing to the floor in front of him.

Smokescreen pushed away from the wall and walked over.

"On your knees." Vortex grabbed his arm, yanking him downward.

Dropping to his knees, Smokescreen obeyed, his doorwings were trembling a little.

"You're going to treat my Autobot to your mouth, and swallow every last drop." He grabbed Smokescreen by the shoulder, maneuvering his head between Sunstreaker's legs. Vortex looked at Sunstreaker. "Open."

They exchanged looks, Sunstreaker trying to convey his regret with his optics as he stared down at Smokescreen.

Frowning, he parted his legs a little wider and let his panel retract. Smokescreen didn't hesitate, glossa flicking out to lick up the shaft slowly.

"Such wonderful obedience," Vortex crooned as he pet Smokescreen's head. "Go on, now. This is his reward for his continued obedience over the last few days. Suck his spike dry," Vortex commanded.

Lips parted and Smokescreen's mouth wrapped around Sunstreaker's spike. Primus help him, it felt amazing. Smokescreen swirled his glossa around the shaft and then pulled back giving a hard suck to the head.

Unable to help himself, Sunstreaker moaned as his spike hardened in his friend's talented mouth.

Vortex's fingers moved over his chestplate in slow lazy circles. "Scrapper assured me that not only was his valve a nice snug fit but they'd trained his mouth well, too."

The fragger talking sort of killed what small rise of libido Sunstreaker felt. His spike losing its harder shape. Smokescreen was determined, though. Suckling and squeezing the base, he worked to properly arouse Sunstreaker. Understanding there would be consequences for both of them if they didn't perform well enough, Sunstreaker offlined his optics and tried to enjoy the way it felt. His neglected spike was soon throbbing away inside the warm, slick mouth wrapped around it.

A small moan passed his lips, and Smokescreen bobbed his head faster, squeezing with a little more pressure.

"Fraaag..." Sunstreaker's whole frame shivered as he overloaded. His fingers dug into Vortex's leg, pleasure washing through his array.

"So beautiful," Vortex murmured.

Not missing a drop, Smokescreen swallowed his overload. Eagerly licking and cleaning up afterward.

Dimly lighting his optics, guilt suddenly filled his spark. Smokescreen shouldn't be serving him like this. But what choice did they have?

Once finished, Smokescreen sat back on his heels, quietly waiting further instruction.

Vortex chuckled and pat Smokescreen's helm. "I definitely want you to use your pet more often." He settled into his chair, and picked up the remote to the vid screen, turning it on.

"May I close my panel, master?" Sunstreaker asked.

Vortex focused on his now decompressed spike. "No. You will remain sitting on my leg with it open." He then set the remote down to pat his other leg. "Come here, shareware slave."

Smokescreen scrambled to his feet and then carefully sat on Vortex's other leg.

Wrapping his arms around each of their waists, he settled in to watch the show that started playing. Half way through the episode, Sunstreaker was absorbed enough in the plot to forget he was exposed.

"Shareware, pet my Autobot's spike," Vortex suddenly said.

Reaching over, Smokescreen lightly ran his fingers over Sunstreaker's spike, which caused it to jerk slightly from the touch.

"Now slide your fingers in his valve," Vortex commanded, hungry lust permeating his voice.

Hesitating, Smokescreen frowned.

Vortex slapped the back of his helm hard. "Now! I want him wet in my lap."

Sunstreaker scooted to the edge of Vortex's leg and parted his own to bare his valve. Distress pinched Smokescreen's features, but he obeyed, pushing a finger inside, then two. Slowly he pumped them in and out, while Sunstreaker drew on better memories to help his array to react.

"Good," Vortex murmured. "Sit back."

Moving his hips, he sat properly on Vortex’s leg again, creating a wet puddle between his valve and the warm thigh. The shame of it made his faceplates heat. He felt humiliated, which he knew was the point.

"Lick them clean," Vortex said, looking at Smokescreen.

Doorwings lowering, Smokescreen suckled his fingers clean as Vortex settled in to watch the remainder of the show. Time seemed to drag forever on until finally it ended.

"The real show now." Vortex jerked his head toward the hallway. "I'd like to watch you use your gift on my berth, my beautiful Autobot."

Clenching his dentia, Sunstreaker stood, and took Smokescreen's hand. They started toward the room when Vortex made 'tsk' sound and pointed to his dirtied thigh.  "Shareware slave, clean this up, too." Vortex's visor darkened.

Smokescreen didn't hesitate, dropping to his knees and laving the area clean.

Vortex patted his helm. "Very good. Now both of you go."

They all entered the main berth room, and Smokescreen's doorwings submissively flattened against his back. Sunstreaker held fast to his hand, though. He knew that despite all the sick head games Vortex liked to play, the one thing his master would never do is actually interface with either of them.

“Shareware, on the berth.” Vortex rubbed his chin, contemplating options for a moment. “On your back, legs spread, panel open.”

Smokescreen squeezed Sunstreaker’s hand, then let go and did exactly as he’d been told. A part of Sunstreaker’s spark ached at the sadness he saw flicker in his friend’s optics as Smokescreen gazed at him from between his spread legs.

“What are my instructions, master?” Sunstreaker asked. He wanted to please Vortex, to help ensure neither of them made him angry.

Vortex ran his hand down Sunstreaker’s back, then cupped his aft before giving it a hard swat. “Do as you please. He’s your gift to unwrap.”

Sunstreaker crawled onto the berth, and got on all fours over Smokescreen. He leaned down and nuzzled the yellow chevron. If he was going to be forced to interface with his friend, he was at least determined to treat him with respect and affection.

Smokescreen didn’t move. He remained still, ready to be used, like a pleasure drone. He knew from experience what got Vortex off was how much Sunstreaker looked like he enjoyed himself as he came with the toy. He figured watching them would be much the same.

Leaning down, Sunstreaker mouthed the side of Smokescreen helm as he whispered. “Ignore him. It’s just me and you, and we’re going to enjoy this. Okay?”

He lifted his head back up, nipping at the chevron. “Touch me anywhere, everywhere,” he said in a rumbled tone.

Smokescreen looked up at him, then ran his hands down his chestplate. Sunstreaker hoped this wouldn’t traumatize his friend further, but he needed to be revved up enough to perform and he wanted this to feel as natural as possible between them, despite the circumstances.

Sunstreaker mouthed along Smokescreen’s jaw and then down his neck. He pet a hand over the curve of his red and blue chest plate, pausing to tease the headlight. His thumb rimmed the edge and Smokescreen made a soft keen. He then mouthed down his frame, kissing his abdomen as he scooted backward. He paused at Smokescreen’s spike, kissing it once, before leaning down and flicking his glossa out to lick the replaced rim of his valve. Smokescreen moaned a little and reached down to pet a head fin.

“I like how you’re unwrapping him,” Vortex said, lust dripping in his voice.

Ignoring the fragger, Sunstreaker dipped his glossa into the heating valve, earning him a whimper. He could feel lubricant seep from the mesh inside. That was a good sign. He wanted Smokescreen to enjoy this. He curled his glossa inside, teasing the mesh walls that reacted by trying to squeeze down on his glossa. He pulled back and then inserted his fingers, scissoring them inside to stretch and prepare Smokescreen for him.

He wasn’t sure if Smokescreen was acting or actually enjoying the stimulation, but his writhing frame coupled with low moans made him look quite attractive. Sunstreaker’s spike started to harden in response to the visual.

The sound of Vortex’s interface array opening only vaguely registered as he continued to pump his fingers, which were now slick and sliding in and out easily.

Arching his chest up, Smokescreen whined. “Please…” Blue hands reached out for Sunstreaker, and he pulled his fingers free to crawl over top of Smokescreen. Their mouths met in a heated kiss, and Sunstreaker whined at gentle petting of his helm fins on either side. As the kiss broke, Smokescreen bucked his hips. “I want you,” he breathed.

Vortex moaned, but it was just background noise to Sunstreaker. He aligned his spike, and gently pushed the head just past the rim. His interfacing style was usually pretty feral, going fast and hard. He didn’t want to harm Smokescreen, though. His spike throbbed with excitement as he slowly sank into the inviting, slick heat between Smokescreen’s legs.

“Primus,” Sunstreaker gasped. He hadn’t been inside anyone in so long, he selfishly wanted to relish how good this felt.

Smokescreen whined, arching his body. Sunstreaker took the opportunity to slide his arms under him, fingers finding doorwing hinges to stimulate. With a breathy gasp, Smokescreen threw his helm back. Sunstreaker felt that valve tighten around him and watched the doorwings tremble with pleasure instead of fear. He mouthed the exposed section of throat below the collar in front of him, then began to give into his desire that was taking over, thrusting into that slick heat.

“Amazing,” Vortex murmured.

Their master’s voice felt distant and far away.  All Sunstreaker cared about right now was bringing them both some much deserved pleasure in the midst of this horrible new world they were stuck in.

Smokescreen’s arms wrapped around his middle and he keened. “Frag, Sunny! You feel incredible!” he moaned.

“So do you,” Sunstreaker replied, lust bleeding into his voice as he picked up his pace.

Their bodies moved together on the berth, pleasure and heat enveloping them whole. Smokescreen lifted his legs up, knees wrapped around Sunstreaker’s hips, which allowed him to sink his entire spike in to the hilt. They both moaned at the slight adjustment to their position, and Sunstreaker was lost in the moment, thrusting with abandon as he chased the impending overload he felt building in his array.

Blue fingers dug into his plating, and Smokescreen’s mouth opened wide as he cried out, overloading hard beneath him. The shudder of his friend’s frame and grasping valve he continued to pound into added the last bit of fuel to his internal fire, causing him to also overload with a roar. He sank deep as he could go, spike tapping the roof of Smokescreen’s valve as fluid burst forth, filling the area with the most wonderful electrical charge. It was a moment of pure ecstasy. Something he’d never thought he’d ever feel again.

“Yes. Pull out so I can see,” Vortex commanded, killing the moment in an instant.

Sunstreaker glanced at their master. He’d already come, the evidence on the floor. He then looked back at Smokescreen, nuzzling his cheek, before slowly withdrawing. Smokescreen whimpered a little, but relaxed against the berth once he pulled out. Fluid seeped from his valve, and Sunstreaker started to sit back when Vortex moved in and put a hand to his back. “Lick your pet clean.”

Sunstreaker grimaced, then leaned forward, laving at the liquid trickling out. That’s when he heard Vortex huff and grunt, the tell tale signs he was jerking off again. Within moments, he felt hot fluid splatter his exposed valve and aft. A part of him was surprised. That was the closest Vortex’s spike had gotten to his array yet.

A hand grasped Sunstreaker’s arm, wrenching him to sit back up. Vortex leaned in, visor glowing crimson. “Too bad you’re a filthy Autobot. Otherwise I’d reward you further with my spike in that gaping hole between your legs.” He then let go, and took a cloth off a nearby table tossing it to the floor. “Shareware, you clean up the floor, then clean up my beautiful Autobot in the washrack.”

Smokescreen scrambled off the berth, and picked up the cloth, wiping up the splatter of fluid on the floor.

“Close your disgusting array!” Vortex said, ruffling his blades on his back.

Not missing a beat, Smokescreen reached between his legs, snapping the cover shut, then he resumed cleaning. Sunstreaker frowned at the sight of his friend on the floor like that. Once the floor was spotless, Smokescreen got to his feet.

“Go on,” Vortex said, motioning for Sunstreaker to get off the berth. “Take your pet and clean up.”

He got to his feet, and took Smokescreen’s hand, leading him out of the berthroom and into the washrack stall the next room over. Vortex followed them, but his spike was no longer out. He watched quietly as they stepped into the stall.

Sunstreaker turned on the water, and picked up the bottle of cleanser.

“Your pet will wash you,” Vortex said as he leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

Smokescreen took the bottle and squirted the cleanser into his hands, wiping down Sunstreaker’s plating. A slight push to his side, and he turned for Smokescreen, feeling his hands move over his back, aft and making a quick swipe between his legs to remove the markings Vortex left on him earlier.

Once Sunstreaker was rinsed off, he was going to help Smokescreen get washed up, but Vortex made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Your pet can clean himself.”

Sunstreaker sighed, and stepped back. If Smokescreen was at all upset about being watched as he washed his own plating, he didn’t show it. If anything, his expression had become cold and detached, returning to that drone-like state he’d been in earlier. Both cleaned, they stepped out and each took a cloth to dry themselves.

“Shareware slave, you will always let him do everything first. You will submit to anything he asks of you, and anything I order of you. You will pleasure him whenever he desires or _I_ desire. You are nothing but a worthless pleasure bot here for his enjoyment. Do you understand?” Vortex’s visor focused on Smokescreen.

“Yes, master,” Smokescreen replied. He stopped drying, waiting for Sunstreaker to finish.

Sunstreaker deeply frowned, and quickly wiped down his frame. He hung his cloth up and Smokescreen finally dried himself off.

“You may each have a glass of energon, then you’re confined to the room,” Vortex said before finally leaving.

Sunstreaker’s empty tank ached, having been reminded of his lack of fuel for today. He silently led Smokescreen to the dispenser in the living area, and they each got a glass and quickly gulped down their servings. Smokescreen took Sunstreaker’s glass, then rinsed them both. Sunstreaker was about to protest, but Vortex appeared in the doorway, watching them.

They left the living area and went to their doorless room. Smokescreen’s doorwings sagged a little once they saw Vortex walk past and go into his berthroom, shutting the door.

Getting a cloth from a drawer, Sunstreaker sat on the edge of the berth and then offered it to Smokescreen. “So you can clean up your array.”

Smokescreen smiled just a little. The first one Sunstreaker had seen since his friend had arrived. “Thanks.” Sitting on the edge of the berth, he took the cloth from Sunstreaker’s grasp and opened his panel, dipping the cloth in to clean the mess from his valve.

Sunstreaker looked across the room, trying to be respectful.

“You had your mouth all over it, you don’t need to look away, you know,” Smokescreen said.

“Sorry about that,” Sunstreaker replied.

“Why? It was amazing. You have a talented glossa and fragging perfect spike. It felt awesome,” Smokescreen said. He finished wiping himself up and snapped his panel back in place.

Sunstreaker took the used cloth from him and leaned over to drop it in the bin for washing next to their berth. “Glad it wasn’t totally horrible.”

“The opposite of horrible. You can ‘face me anytime,” Smokescreen replied. He turned and leaned his helm on Sunstreaker’s shoulder. “Haven’t overloaded in so long, my array is still tingling.”

Wrapping an arm around Smokescreen, Sunstreaker smiled and kissed the closest tip of his chevron. “Mine, too.”

“Not that I’m complaining but why is he so anti-Autobot ‘facing?” Smokescreen asked in a quieter voice.

“I have no clue. He’s touched me a little, but it freaked him out. Think he’s just glitched,” Sunstreaker replied in hushed voice.

“Weird,” Smokescreen replied.

“Yeah, but one of the few bonuses of being here and not someplace else,” Sunstreaker replied.

Smokescreen nodded and cuddled closer to Sunstreaker. “I’m glad I’m not alone anymore.”

Sunstreaker’s spark ached a little at the sadness in Smokescreen’s voice, but he nodded his agreement.


	5. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl and Jazz find ways to cope with what happened.

Prowl was curled up on his side, staring at the wall. He’d not moved since laying down on the berth in Shockwave’s guest room the evening before after a long soak in the washrack. He’d recharged some, but it had been a mostly restless night for him. In part due to what happened, but he also knew he’d grown accustomed to being with Sideswipe while he recharged.

He missed Sideswipe.

But how in the world could he tell him what happened? Sideswipe would be furious that Shockwave took Prowl there, and then touched him. Prowl curled up a little tighter on the berth. He felt sick inside. Like his spark had been tainted by what happened, and what he’d done and seen there.

The door to his room slid open, and Prowl practically leapt off the berth. He stood, doorwings trembling as Shockwave held out a glass of energon.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Shockwave said. “I thought you were still resting and was going to just leave this for you.”

Prowl tried to gather his frayed nerves and appear outwardly calmer, even if his spark was racing now. “Thank you, sir.”

Shockwave’s shoulders sagged a little. “Prowl, you don’t need to call me ‘sir’.” He crossed to the berthside table, placing the glass of energon down, then moved back to the doorway.

“Well, thank you,” Prowl said, feeling more unhinged than he expected at seeing Shockwave.

There was hesitation in Shockwave’s stance, as if he wanted to say something more, but instead he walked out and the door slid back shut.

With a sigh of air, Prowl sagged with relief. He felt so stupid for being this upset. Others experienced worse things than he had. He had no right to feel like this. He moved around the berth and picked up the glass, sucking down the fuel in greedy gulps. His fuel tank hummed happily. Staring at the empty glass as he set it down, he frowned. He hadn’t even noticed how low on energon he was.

He sat back down on the berth, and sighed as he leaned forward with his helm in his hands. “I need to get it together,” he whispered to himself.

…

 

Jazz woke, finding himself pressed against the larger frame in the berth. He looked up at Soundwave, noting his visor was still off. They’d settled in last night sharing the berth side-by-side, and Jazz wondered how he’d ended up wrapped in a large blue arm, against Soundwave’s side. Not that he minded. It was a nice way to wake up.

“Was the recharge cycle sufficient?” Soundwave said, visor dimly lighting.

Jazz half-smiled. Soundwave pretending to still be offline while he woke up was kind of cute. “Yeah. I feel alright,” he replied. “Just not sure how I ended up like this with you.”

Soundwave began to pet a helm horn with his free hand’s fingertips. “Distressed crying while you recharged ceased when I pulled you close.”

“I was?” Jazz frowned a little. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Apology is not necessary,” Soundwave replied.

“Guess yesterday messed with me more than I thought,” Jazz said, snuggling into the warm hold he was in.

“Bad memories take time to fade,” Soundwave intoned.

Funny statement coming from a mech so obviously still traumatized by similar events. Jazz didn’t dare say anything, though.

There was a loud series of knocks at the door, startling Jazz. He jerked in Soundwave’s embrace, which was met with gentle squeeze. “Mini-cassettes require my attention.”

“Oh, right. Almost forgot about ‘em,” Jazz replied. He started to pull away from Soundwave, but was gently tugged back down.

“Stay. They can come in and speak to me. No need to move yet,” Soundwave said.

Jazz felt a little weird letting the cassetticons see him like this with their–well, whatever Soundwave was to them, but he relented. He curled up against Soundwave again, and then the door was opened by remote.

“Boss! Boss! Never gonna guess what we just saw–” Frenzy froze first, staring at Jazz in Soundwave’s embrace.

“Yeah, an ad for more auctions! We want our own Autobrat… to… ah…” Rumble trailed off, also looking confused. Clearly seeing Soundwave being affectionate was unexpected even to them.

“No other Autobots will reside here,” Soundwave replied.

“Uh. But you have one. Why can’t we have one to boss around and clean stuff and let us do what we want with?” Rumble said, dragging his view from Jazz to Soundwave.

“None of you treat Jazz with respect, therefore you are not responsible enough to have one of your own,” Soundwave intoned.

Jazz bit back the urge to grin as the brother mini-cassettes pouted.

“If we start being nice to the Autobrat, then can we get one?” Frenzy asked.

“Changes in behavior will be considered,” Soundwave replied. “Ravage, Ratbat, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw must also change behavior.”

Rumble’s visor brightened as he frowned. “But they’re not sparked with us! Why do we have to get them to be nice to your dumb Autoguy?”

Sparked? Jazz had been here a long while, but this was the first he was being given a glimpse into the clearly complex relationship Soundwave had with his mini-cassettes. Maybe at some point when he was alone with Soundwave he would ask him about it.

“They follow your lead,” Soundwave replied.

The two frowned. “Okay. We’ll be nicer to him,” they replied in unison.

“I’ll even start right now. Hey, Autobrat, you don’t stink today,” Frenzy said before cackling and running back out of the room with Rumble laughing and on his heels.

“So, you said that just to get them to stop picking on me?” Jazz asked, turning his head to look up at Soundwave. “Don’t think it’ll work, but thanks.”

“This should be as comfortable a life as I can provide for you,” Soundwave said as he resumed lightly touching Jazz’s helm. “Mini-cassettes are...unruly.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Jazz said as he chuckled. Relaxing against Soundwave, Jazz smiled. “Thanks for everything, though.”

Soundwave nodded.

“You know that offer for me to stay over with Blue and ‘Raj? Think TC would let me do that this evening?” Jazz asked after a moment of amicable silence.

“Affirmative. Anything you desire.” Soundwave let his fingers trail over Jazz’s cheek. “Will miss your presence, however.”

“Not like you’re gonna be rid of me forever,” Jazz replied in a teasing tone. “It’s just one night to sorta do what I need to feel more like myself after what happened.”

“I understand,” Soundwave replied, resuming the petting of Jazz's helm.

 

…

 

Stepping out of the guest room, Prowl finally felt he’d gathered enough mental strength to leave. It was almost evening again, and he knew the others, Sideswipe especially, would be concerned if he didn’t return soon.

He started down the small hallway, but paused when he glanced into a room on his right, seeing a wall covered in holoframes. He wandered into the open room and came to a stop in front of the bank of images. There was a handsome-looking mech who varied in color schemes in almost all the images on display. One image in particular caught Prowl’s attention, though, and he sadly frowned as he reached up to touch the image capture of Optimus back when he was Orion Pax.

He and Prowl had been friends since those early days, when Optimus was an enforcer. It hurt to look at the image of him with this strange mech, but it was a good sort of hurt. The kind  of hurt that helped Prowl remember why he was trying as hard as he could to somehow free himself and his comrades despite how desperate things were. Pipe dream or not, it was his ultimate goal. A goal he suddenly seized onto even more tightly in his mind in response to everything that happened the day before.

“I see you’re up,” Shockwave said.

Prowl whirled around, his spark racing, but the panic he felt from earlier wasn’t quite as bad. He was able to hide and control his outward appearance. “I am. I was going to return the habitation area.”

“Have you had enough time to recuperate?” Shockwave asked.

“There’s no recuperating from what happened. Just hardening of my resolve,” Prowl replied, the rise of panic now making it hard to keep his doorwings steady. They trembled minutely.

“Your strength is one of the traits I admire most about you,” Shockwave said, his optic shifting focus to the image Prowl had been drawn to. “Did you know him back then? Orion?”

“Yes. I was a detective and he was an enforcer,” Prowl replied as he looked back at the image, finding the distraction helpful to quell his anxiety somewhat. “I don’t know who he’s pictured here with, though.”

“That’s me,” Shockwave replied. “Before the council betrayed me and I was sent for empurata.”

Prowl’s optics brightened as he looked back at Shockwave. “You were... But _why_?”

“Parts of my memories were stripped away, but from what I’ve pieced together, I was a threat to their agenda,” Shockwave replied.

Glancing back at the images, Prowl sadly frowned, his panic fading as he focused on trying to understand. What sort of agenda was the council protecting that required such extreme measures?

“Before the empurtata, I was handsome, don’t you think?” Shockwave asked as he stepped into the room and stood beside Prowl.

“Yes. You were,” Prowl quietly replied.

“From what memories aren’t corrupted of my long ago past, I remember being carefree and I played the field frequently,” Shockwave reminisced. “There wasn’t a mech that could resist me, save Orion. He never did give into my invitations. Well, that I remember anyway.”

It was sad that Shockwave had been treated with such brutality by the government Prowl had so dutifully served back then. Prowl knew Megatron’s ambition to overthrow the government and shape his own had gained momentum with other outcasts, but he never imagined this was Shockwave’s true origin.

“Prowl, I hope you’ll eventually accept my apology. I’ve become desensitized to how Megatron and Starscream behave. I should have at least told you more ahead of time. There was nothing I could do to stop them, only mitigate as best I could to ensure you’d be able to walk out undamaged.” Shockwave shook his head. “It doesn’t excuse my touching you how I did, and if there had been another way to protect you, I would have done it.”

Prowl nodded, doorwings lowering a little. “May I ask you something?”

“Yes, of course,” Shockwave replied.

“Why did you stop telling me as much about things going on once I made it clear I wasn’t interested in a physical relationship with you?” Prowl asked.

Shockwave put his hand and laser behind his back and looked at Prowl. “I wanted you to have more time to focus on those in your charge, and enjoy what was clearly becoming a physical relationship with Sideswipe.”

“But you’re always touching me, holding me close to you,” Prowl replied, confused.

“Just because you said 'no', doesn’t mean my desire for you is any less. Your brilliant mind is highly attractive, what can I say?” Shockwave replied. “I promise that I would never require you to submit to me in order to remain in my favor, though.”

Weirdly, that sort of made Prowl feel a little better. “I’d like to be kept in the loop more, if that’s acceptable.”

Shockwave nodded.

"Thank you." Prowl took long last look at the image of Orion and Shockwave, then sighed. "I’m ready to return to the habitation area,” Prowl said.

“I'll walk you out," Shockwave replied.

Knowing Shockwave wasn’t maliciously cutting Prowl out helped. It didn’t excuse the violation he’d experienced at Shockwave’s hand, nothing would, but he would work on accepting what happened with the understanding it was the only option available to protect him.

At the door to Shockwave’s locked section of the compound, he keyed in a series of codes. “Place your hand on the pad,” Shockwave said, golden optic focusing on Prowl.

Hesitating, Prowl frowned a little. The pad beside the door was a energylock. It opened to Shockwave’s particular energy signature. It wouldn’t open to Prowl’s. “May I ask why?”

“Please,” Shockwave said, gesturing to the pad.

Prowl relented, placing his hand over the center. A red light scanned his hand, and then the door hissed and opened.

“You have full access to this suite now,” Shockwave said. “This is how much I trust you.”

Prowl looked back at Shockwave, optics bright. “Sir, I…”

“No need to call me ‘Sir’.” Shockwave’s optic dimmed a little. “On this compound, we are equals. I cannot extend that outside the walls of this place for the time being, but hopefully in time that will change.”

“Thank you, Shockwave,” Prowl replied.

Even without a true face, Prowl could swear Shockwave was smiling.

“Go now. Your comrades need their leader and you need them,” Shockwave said, making a shooing motion with his one hand.

Smiling a little, Prowl nodded once, then walked out down the hallway. Facing the others was going to be hard, but putting it off would only make things worse. He steeled himself as he followed the twisting corridors back toward the habitation suites.

 

…

 

The minute Jazz was left alone with Bluestreak, he pinned him against the wall of the drawing room, their mouths crashing in a passionate kiss. Jazz wanted Bluestreak to touch him everyplace Megatron had, let it cleanse him of the encounter completely. The kiss broke with both of them gasping, and Jazz ran his hands down the curves of Bluestreak’s lovely frame.

“You’re so sexy,” Jazz murmured.

Bluestreak smiled. “You’re one to talk, hotbot.”

Jazz flashed a grin, then scooped Bluestreak up in his arms, carting him into the berthroom. He laid him down, and stole another kiss.

“You’re in one of _those_ moods today, hm?” Bluestreak asked, tugging Jazz to lay overtop of him by his collar fairing.

“S’pose so,” Jazz replied before mouthing and kissing his way down Bluestreak’s body.

Bluestreak arched into his hands and mouth, making little hums and moans of approval. Reaching Bluestreak’s abdomen, Jazz glanced up and smiled. Reaching down, Bluestreak gently fondled a horm helm, and he pressed into the touch. “Touch ‘em both?” Jazz asked, optics dimming.

Bluestreak grinned and happily began to massage them between his fingers. To Jazz, it helped wipe away the fact they’d been used as handles, though, Soundwave’s touch had helped, too. After a moment of enjoying that, he scooted back further and licked up the closed panel. “Open for me, beautiful.”

“Anything for you,” Bluestreak replied with a huge smile. His panel snapped back, and he parted his legs wide.

Jazz had actually never gone down on Bluestreak’s spike before. He’d teased his valve with his glossa as foreplay plenty of times, but never this. This was going to be a surprise to his lover, but he needed to erase the feeling of that huge spike filling his mouth and intake. He kissed up the shaft, then licked around the head.

Bluestreak suddenly pushed up onto his elbows. “Jazz?”

“I need to do this,” Jazz quietly replied. “I’ll explain later.”

“Okay...” Bluestreak looked concerned.

Suckling the head, Jazz dimmed his visor. He then wrapped his lips around it taking the whole thing into his mouth. Bluestreak’s spike wasn’t as large as Megatron’s but it still managed to tap the start of his intake. He held there for a moment, remembering how it felt to gag on the massive spike. He then focused on the here and now, pulling back then sinking down again.

Bluestreak’s doorwings fluttered, and he moaned. That helped Jazz immensely. With the encouraging sounds coming from Bluestreak, he let the events of yesterday fade away, replacing bad memories with good as he bobbed his head over the silvery spike.

“Holy slag,” Bluestreak moaned. “I’m gonna…”

Jazz wanted Bluestreak to overload. He wanted to swallow it all down and clean away the traces of Megatron from his body, inside and out.

With a high pitched whine, Bluestreak bucked his hips, pressing his spike into Jazz’s mouth as he came. Jazz worked his intake, letting the hot, charged fluid slide down it. It felt funny in his tank, but he didn’t mind. He was already feeling better. Pulling off the decompressing spike, he looked up and he licked his lips.

Bluestreak was staring at him with a dazed look. “Wow.”

Jazz chuckled. “Now I wanna dip my spike into your perfect valve. You up for that?”

Lying back, Bluestreak spread his legs. “‘Face me until I can’t move.”

“That can be arranged,” Jazz replied, crawling back up and nipping at Bluestreak’s lower lip as he gyrated his hips, rubbing his onlined spike over the bared valve.

“I don’t know why, but frag you always get me revved up so much.” Bluestreak wrapped his arms around Jazz’s neck.

“We go well together,” Jazz replied before rolling his hips and sliding into that inviting heat with a groan. “You fit me perfectly, like no one ever has.” He nuzzled Bluestreak’s cheek.

Bluestreak made some sort of attempt at a reply, but Jazz began to thrust, and his words devolved in a series of whimpered moans. Relishing the lovely, slick heat, Jazz then faced his memory of sharing Red Alert with Prowl. Guilt flared inside his spark, and he began to thrust harder, jarring Bluestreak beneath him. The only reason he’d managed to overload yesterday was because of this beautiful mech beneath him. He began to kiss and mouth down Bluestreak’s jawline, his spark now thrumming with deep affection. If not for Bluestreak and his time with him, yesterday could have been much, much worse.

“Holy, Primus!” Bluestreak cried out, hands grasping at Jazz’s canopy, rolling his hips in time with Jazz’s. He felt the little tremors of the valve as he sank in, and smiled, knowing Blue was on the edge. He shifted his hips at a slight angle and within three more strokes of his spike he brought his lover to overload.

Bluestreak arched his body and cried out his name, valve holding his spike tight. Jazz groaned at how good it felt, and let himself tumble over the edge, too, shuddering with a nice, intense moment of climax. His spike pumped fluid into that grasping valve, and he groaned.

After he rode the moment to its end he sagged over Bluestreak, spark left feeling fluttery and light. His body had been reclaimed by this wonderful mech. Every micrometer belonged to Bluestreak again. “Love you so much…” he said, pressing his face into the crook of Bluestreak’s neck.

There was a long pause, and Jazz felt Bluestreak still beneath him. He offlined his visor, immediately regretting his admission. Primus, he shouldn’t have said that.

“You _love_ me?” Bluestreak asked. “Something happened to you, didn’t it?”

“Yeah. Lots of bad slag happened yesterday, and if wasn’t for you–for _us_ being together like this I wouldn’t have made it out walkin’,” Jazz replied.

Hands began to rub up and down Jazz’s back. “Did you mean it just now? Or was it something you said in the moment?”

Jazz lifted his head and gazed into Bluestreak’s optics. “I meant it.”

Bluestreak lifted a hand up to cup Jazz’s face and gently trace his thumb down his cheek. “I’ve thought that about you for a while, but it’s hard to really give into emotions like that while locked up with collars around our necks. You know?”

“I know.” Jazz leaned down and kissed Bluestreak sweetly. “You don’t need to say it back, and I won’t say it again if you rather I didn’t.”

With a warm smile, Bluestreak pulled Jazz’s head down so their forehelms touched. “I do love you. One day when we’re free, I hope we get to live a real life together that’s not counted down in hours and minutes.”

“Me, too,” Jazz murmured.

 

…

The door to the habitation area opened, and Prowl kept his posture business-like and doorwings under tight control as he walked in. Ironhide and Ironfist were at the table, and Sideswipe was lounging on the couch watching something on the vid screen. The moment Prowl stepped foot inside, everyone looked over at him.

Sideswipe practically catapulted from the couch, and swept Prowl up in his arms, hugging him close. Instinctually, Prowl stiffened, but after a moment he relaxed into the hold.

“Are you okay?” Ironfist asked as he got up and wandered over.

Prowl nodded, face rubbing the red chest it was pressed against. “Yes.”

“I think you’re crushing him, Sides,” Ironfist said, teasing.

“Sorry, Prowl. Just missed you.” Sideswipe’s grasp loosened, and Prowl slid his arms around his waist, remaining in the embrace. Normally he'd be embarrassed being openly affectionate with Sideswipe but after what happened this seemed like nothing.

“He’s been gone a whole fragging day, you big idiot,” Ironhide said.

Prowl looked at Ironhide. "I see you're up and about now."

“And feelin’ dandy,” Ironhide grumbled. He then looked back at the table, shuffling cards in his hands. Only then did Prowl notice the card game that he’d interrupted.

Ironfist glanced at Ironhide, then back at Prowl. “You need anything like energon?”

“No, I’m fine. Return to your game. I need a moment to chat with Sideswipe alone,” Prowl replied with a small smile.

Ironfist looked at Sideswipe. “Take good care of him.”

“Always,” Sideswipe replied, giving Prowl a small squeeze before letting go.

Prowl took hold of Sideswipe’s hand, leading him from the common area to their room. He shut the door and sat down on the berth, patting the area next to him.

“Do I really want to sit?” Sideswipe asked, looking worried. “Needing to talk to me alone, is it something bad you’re gonna tell me?”

“It’s not good,” Prowl replied, doorwings lowering.

Sideswipe’s face fell. “You don’t wanna do this anymore? You and me?”

Optics brightening, Prowl quickly shook his head. “No, it’s nothing like that. I want to be honest with you about what happened. Confide in you.”

Relief softened Sideswipe’s features and he moved to sit beside Prowl. “Something really bad happened to you?”

“Yes,” Prowl replied, doorwings beginning to tremble a little.

“Prowl…” Sideswipe reached over, taking hold of his hand and sandwiching it between his large black ones. “You can talk to me.”

Prowl dimmed his optics. “I don’t want you be angry about what I’m going to tell you. I need you to please understand that despite everything, I walked away in one piece.”

Worry pinched Sideswipe’s face, and he slowly nodded.

“I also ask, you don’t share this with anyone else,” Prowl added.

“Stays right here,” Sideswipe replied.

Taking a deep breath of air, Prowl let it hiss from his intakes as he tried to steady himself. He shifted his focus to the floor, knowing he’d not be able to say what happened while looking Sideswipe in the face.

“I was taken to a meeting with Megatron. Shockwave, Soundwave and Starscream were all in attendance with me, Jazz and Red Alert. After they’d discussed business, things–” Prowl frowned. “–things turned much darker. Megatron wanted to test the obedience of myself and Jazz. He had Shockwave overload me in front of all them–”

“Shockwave _‘faced_ you?” Sideswipe interrupted, anger rumbling in his tone.

“No, he manually overloaded me,” Prowl replied, glancing at Sideswipe. “He had no better option. The alternative was to let Starscream rape me.”

Sideswipe shook his head. “Prowl…”

Looking away again, Prowl frowned. “Megatron then forced Jazz to take his spike in his mouth, followed up by having us both spike Red Alert. It was a show for him and Starscream. They enjoyed it so much that they shoved us aside and interfaced in front of everyone there.”

“Wait, you and Jazz _spiked_ Red? How did you… _How?_ ” Sideswipe asked.

“We were forced to both penetrate Red Alert at the same time, and the only way we managed to perform as expected was to draw on memories,” Prowl glanced at Sideswipe again. “I thought of you. Of being with you. If not for that, I’d never have walked out unharmed.”

Sideswipe looked conflicted. Angry and sad all at once.

Suddenly Prowl found himself swept in strong arms and hugged close. He trembled in the hold, the pain of what happened hitting him hard. He’d been numb the night before, processing everything between small short bouts of recharge. But now, safe in the arms of someone he cared about so much the numbness faded away, leaving the raw pain exposed. He started to softly sob, hands moving to grasp at Sideswipe as he buried his face against the scarred red armor of his chest.

“You’re safe, Prowl. I’ve got you,” Sideswipe murmured between little kisses to the top of his helm.

Prowl let go of the facade of strength and crumbled in those arms holding him, letting that pain work its way out of him in the form of tears. Was he weak? Maybe. But he didn’t care. He knew now just how important Sideswipe had become to him. He trusted this mech more than he’d trusted anyone else possibly ever., and made a mental note to tell Sideswipe as much when he was able to coherently speak again.

He cried for a long time. Cried for the loss of Optimus, for the loss of freedom, for the pain his comrades dealt with each day, for his failure to save them from this fate. Despite everything he felt, one thing remained deep inside him giving him strength to not give into despair: he would fight for their freedom to be returned to them until his last spark pulse because that was what Optimus would have wanted him to do.

 


	6. Sweet Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change for Sunstreaker and Smokescreen.

Smokescreen was on all fours in Vortex’s berth. He keened, doorwings quivering as Sunstreaker thrust hard and fast into him from behind. His valve was a nice fit, squeezing Sunstreaker just the right way. The sounds of grunting from their master were distant in his mind as he chased down a combined overload for them. Hands holding Smokescreen’s hips, he sheathed his spike over and over until Smokescreen’s moans ceased, replaced by a static-filled cry of release. He sank deep into the grasping valve, groaning at how good it felt.

As the spasming valve began to relax, he resumed his thrusts, this time with more abandon. He rolled his head back and roared as his climax crested through him, and he pulled Smokescreen’s hips and pushed himself to the hilt, spike exploding in a sharp, sweet overload that left his whole body shuddering.

“Holy frag,” Smokescreen moaned, his body shivering with secondary overload.

The berth was jostled, and Sunstreaker looked over just in time to have his face and chest decorated with their master’s overload. Vortex groaned, followed by a light pant. He reached down, turning Sunstreaker’s face up to better look at the mess. “My beautiful pet,” he murmured.

Sunstreaker glanced at the spike mere micrometers from his face. He’d noticed Vortex was daring to get closer to him when he came. He wasn’t sure what exactly he hoped to achieve, but Sunstreaker decided to lean over and lick up Vortex’s spike.

Startled, Vortex jumped back, his visor bright. “What the frag do you think you’re doing?” he yelled.

“I thought you might enjoy that, _master_ ,” he said, trying to ignore the disgusting smell of overload all over him.

Vortex slapped Sunstreaker hard enough to send the world spinning for a moment.

“Sunny?”

“Shut it, Shareware! Or I’ll beat you into a pile of scrap!” Vortex shouted. He then grabbed Sunstreaker by a head fin, forcing him to look back up into that crimson visor. “As beautiful as you maybe, as much as I know you _dream_ of my spike tearing you open, it will _never_ happen. You’re an Autobot piece of scum, not even worthy of licking my pede, let alone my spike.” He pinched the helm fin hard. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, master,” Sunstreaker replied, wincing in pain from the pinch.

Vortex let go and then got off the berth. “Both of you get out. Clean up and stay in your room until you’re called for.”

Sunstreaker slid out of Smokescreen, and they scrambled off the berth and down the hall to the wash rack. Sunstreaker wasted no time stepping into the stall and turning on the water. He moved under the spray and offlined his optics, letting the water rinse the fluid from his face and head.

He felt a cloth move over his face, and smiled just a little at Smokescreen’s attentiveness.

“Why did you do that?” Smokescreen asked in a hushed voice.

Lighting one optic, Sunstreaker looked at him. “Just curious about what he’d do. Hopefully he’ll keep at more of a distance when he decides to overload all over me next time.”

Smokescreen sadly frowned. “It’s really gross. I’m sorry he does that to you.”

Sunstreaker shrugged a shoulder.

“I came really hard that time,” Smokescreen said after a moment, moving the cloth to wipe away the fluid from Sunstreaker’s helm fin.

“We’re getting pretty good at it. The way you squeezed my spike, Primus. That’s a talent,” Sunstreaker said with a half smile.

Smokescreen grinned in reply.

They took their time, each tending the other since Vortex wasn’t looming in the doorway to watch this time. Scrubbing at build up between one another’s seams, and reaching areas for each other that would normally be ignored by solitary washing. It felt nice. It also reminded Sunstreaker of happier times with Sideswipe. They used to spend hours cleaning and waxing one another...

Once they were done and dried off, they returned to their room and settled in on the berth. Sunstreaker sighed, relaxing with Smokescreen curled up against him.

Heavy footsteps instantly put him back on edge, though.

“Autobot, come here.” Vortex’s voice was colder than usual, which made Sunstreaker stiffen.

He slid off the berth, leaving Smokescreen looking scared and worried. At the doorway, Vortex grabbed his helm fin and pinched it, pulling him out of the room in the painful hold. Sunstreaker’s spark started pulsing fast and hard as they approached the closet.

“No, wait, please!” Sunstreaker staggered back, but Vortex pinched the sensitive appendage harder, tearing a whimper of pain from his vocalizer. “Please, I’m sorry!”

“It doesn’t make me happy to do this. But your disobedience must be punished. Tomorrow I have to take you with me to an important meeting with Lord Megatron and I need to be sure you will behave,” Vortex said, opening the door. He let go of Sunstreaker’s helm fin, and grabbed his arm, shoving him into the closet and quickly shutting the door.

“No, please! I’m sorry!” Sunstreaker pounded his fists against the door. The lighting suddenly got bright and he whimpered. “ _Please!_ ” The audio piercing sound started and he collapsed on the floor, wrapping his arms around his helm. It was pointless to try and shield himself from it, though. He shivered, the horrible sound penetrating his head, his body, and his spark with its resonating assault.

He hated that fragger _so_ much.

Sunstreaker was left in the room for several hours, enduring the audio piercing noise that shook him to his core. He was crying and shivering on the floor, praying the sound would vibrate his body apart when then suddenly it stopped, and the lighting dimmed.

Exhausted, all the tension left his frame and he almost instantly offlined right where he was.

He jolted awake sometime later to the sound of the door to the closet opening, but didn’t move from his balled up position on the floor, though. Not because he was being defiant, but due to the lack of response he was getting from his limbs and sluggish start of several of his internal systems.

“Get up,” Vortex barked.

Blearily, Sunstreaker managed to push up into a sitting position. He reset his optics a few times to get them to focus.

“I said, _get up_.” Vortex stepped inside, grabbing Sunstreaker by the arm and dragging him out of the closet with his legs trailing along the floor.

“On your feet!” Vortex shouted, clearly annoyed.

With concerted effort, Sunstreaker struggled to stand up. Vortex just watched, his visor a dark red color as he ruffled his blades. Once he was on his feet, Sunstreaker fought to not topple sideways. That tortuous sound had messed with his internal systems like his gyros for balance, which were now struggling to fully come online.

“I don’t enjoy punishing you this way,” Vortex said after a moment. “But I cannot tolerate such brazen behavior.”

“Yes, master,” Sunstreaker obediently replied.

Vortex sighed, then gestured down the hall. “Your pet is waiting for you in the wash rack. He will be buffing your plating, and preparing you to look your best. I’ve been invited to meet with Lord Megatron and he insists I bring you along.”

Sunstreaker nearly stumbled on his own feet, trying to make it to the washrack. Vortex actually reached out to grasp his arm and steady him.

“Perhaps I had the frequency set too high,” Vortex mumbled as he held Sunstreaker up by the arm and helped him down hallway.

 _You think?_ Sunstreaker venomously thought. His whole body was struggling to recover functionality.

“Shareware slave, your master is out of sorts. Feed him his energon ration, then buff his plating to a shine so bright I’ll be able to see my face in his chestplate. Understand?” Vortex shoved Sunstreaker into the washrack room, and Smokescreen was quick to react, catching him before he fell flat on his face.

“Yes, master,” Smokescreen replied.

Vortex then disappeared from sight, and they both heard his berthroom door slide shut.

“Sunny, what did he do to you?” Smokescreen asked, while guiding him over to a stool set in the middle of the stall.

“The closet,” Sunstreaker replied, sitting down.

Smokescreen handed him a glass of energon, but Sunstreaker’s hands were too shaky to hold it properly. Smokescreen quickly wrapped his hands around Sunstreaker’s, then lifted it up to his lips. “Drink up. Maybe this will help.”

Sunstreaker felt shame burn in his lines at how pathetic he must look right now, but he drank the offered fuel, knowing he needed it.

“Better?” Smokescreen asked as he set the empty glass aside.

“A little,” Sunstreaker replied.

Smokescreen sadly frowned. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. My systems just need time to realign. Should be alright in an hour or so,” Sunstreaker replied. “Need to get cleaned up for whatever stupid slagging thing he’s taking me to.”

“Let me do it. I don’t mind.” Smokescreen picked up a buffer, and can of wax. He dipped the soft end into the wax, then turned it on. He pressed it to Sunstreaker’s arm first, moving the spinning end of the buffer work over his plating.

“Thanks,” Sunstreaker said after a moment, guilt filling his chest. Smokescreen shouldn’t be doing this for him, but he was too out of it to tend to himself right now.

In silence Smokescreen worked, using the buffer to carefully wax his whole frame. It had taken the better part of an hour by which time Sunstreaker was starting to feel much better.  

“Practically glowing,” Smokescreen said with a small smile. “Think you can stand?”

Sunstreaker nodded and stood up. Smokescreen then used a chamois to get any spots he’d missed.

“You really do look gorgeous,” Smokescreen said, smiling at Sunstreaker as he stepped back and looked him up and down.

Sunstreaker grabbed his friend’s shoulder and leaned in, kissing the center of his chevron. “I owe you big time.”

“Just come back. I hardly recharged without you there,” Smokescreen replied with a sadness flickering in his optics.

“I’ll do my best,” Sunstreaker replied.

The door to the berthroom opened and they both stiffened. Vortex appeared in the doorway not even a moment later.

“Come here,” Vortex commanded, focused on Sunstreaker.

Obeying, he moved to stand in front of Vortex. The large mech looked him over, maneuvering him around by the hips. “Good job, Shareware. If you keep this up, I might reward you with a special gift.” He then slapped Sunstreaker’s aft. “We should get going. Don’t want to be late.” Looking over at Smokescreen, Vortex’s visor darkened. “Pick up in here and return to your room until we’re back.”

“Yes, master,” Smokescreen quickly replied.

“Autobot, you may kiss your pet goodbye, since he did seem quite distressed when I parted you two last night,” Vortex said, giving Sunstreaker a little push.

Walking over to Smokescreen, Sunstreaker cupped his face in his hands and leaned in, capturing his lips in a soft-mouthed kiss. It was all for show, to prove he would be fully obedient from now on, but he felt heat flush the cheeks beneath his hands with true arousal from Smokescreen. Pulling back, he gazed into his optics, unsure what to make of the reaction.

“That’s enough. Time to go,” Vortex said, gesturing for Sunstreaker to proceed after him.

“Later, Smokes,” he said.

“Later, Sunny.”

…

 

“Lord Megatron, thank you for the invitation,” Vortex said, bowing his helm respectfully.

Sunstreaker didn’t dare look up, but he’d gotten a glimpse of the other mechs in attendance when they were escorted into the conference room. Starscream, Thundercracker and Skywarp were all standing to one side.

“It’s been brought to my attention that you’re interested in becoming part of my advisory board,” Megatron said, his voice low and foreboding.

The sound of that mech’s voice made Sunstreaker’s energon boil in his lines, but he acted his part, passive and silent. Vortex’s arm candy.

“Yes, Lord Megatron. I believe I would be an excellent addition,” Vortex replied.

“Do you, now?” Megatron drummed his fingers on the large conference table. “Tell me then, what does an interrogator in peacetime have to offer me?”

Vortex’s blades ruffled, but Sunstreaker knew this time it wasn’t because he was mad. No, he was nervous. “I have insight when it comes to the psyche of the new citizenry here. The crimes in lower income areas have increased, and I believe I’d be well suited to helping keep the streets clean of nefarious elements.”

Megatron regarded Vortex for a long moment. “You’d essentially like to be placed into a position overseeing the enforcement patrols?”

“I’d be very good in such a position. I already serve in a similar capacity, helping keep the refinery operations' slave population operating smoothly,” Vortex replied, confidence returning to his voice.

 _The refinery is run by slaves?_ Sunstreaker frowned. Autobot slaves?

Pushing to stand, Megatron smiled. “I will consider it. But first, you must understand, being a part of my inner circle means you will be a _full_ participant.”

“Of course, Lord Megatron,” Vortex replied eagerly.

“Excellent. Then let’s see how well you perform with your slave, shall we?” Megatron turned and walked to an adjacent room. Starscream looked practically giddy as he followed.

Vortex glanced at Skywarp and Thundercracker, clearly unsure what was going on.

“You wanna be on the inside team, you gotta play by his rules,” Skywarp said, strolling into the other room, Thundercracker walking behind silently.

“Don’t mess this up for me, you hear?” Vortex said to Sunstreaker in a hushed voice before following the others.

Sunstreaker stole a quick glance around the room as they entered. It was furnished with a large plush chair which Megatron was sitting on, and a low level table set right in front of it. The walls were a dark almost black color, making the chair and table the focus of the room.

The seekers stood in a line to the side, much as they had in the conference room.

“Have you been carefully training your pet to be obedient?” Megatron asked.

“Yes, my lord,” Vortex replied.

“Let me examine him,” Megatron said, sitting forward in his seat.

Vortex shoved Sunstreaker by the shoulder to go over. Sunstreaker frowned the tiniest bit, but didn’t resist. He walked over and stood in front of the mech that had destroyed everything he’d once known. It was tempting to try and poke one of his optics out, or punch the tyrant right in the nose, but Sunstreaker knew it was useless. The seekers would probably terminate him before he even landed a single blow.

Large hands moved over Sunstreaker’s plating. “He’s quite stunning. You take good care of his appearance.” A hand pushed between his legs and rubbed the cover to his array. “How well does he perform in the berth?”

“ _Very_ well, my lord,” Vortex replied.

 _Frag._ Was this going where Sunstreaker suspected?

“Lay down on the table, Autobot. Head facing me, legs spread and open your array,” Megatron ordered.

Not missing a beat, Sunstreaker did exactly that. Flashing those seekers his array didn’t even feel as remotely humiliating as trying to wash with a toy inserted in his valve while Vortex jacked off. Primus, how twisted was his processor all because of that sick fragger anyway?

Megatron moved to kneel at Sunstreaker’s head. His hands moved over his plating, down his chest and abdomen, finally reaching his array. Megatron skipped past his spike, and curled two large fingers into Sunstreaker’s valve. He flinched a little, not used to being touched by someone other than himself.

“He’s barely even wet,” Megatron said, disappointment clear in his tone.

“I use toys with him to warm up his array,” Vortex replied.

“I see.” Megatron withdrew his fingers.

The click of an interface cover was quickly followed by an onlined spike being rubbed against the side of Sunstreaker’s face. The next thing he knew, Sunstreaker was pulled to the edge of the table, head falling backward without a surface under it and a large spike was pressed to his lips.

“Swallow, like a good slave,” Megatron said.

Sunstreaker opened his mouth, and the gunmetal grey spike slid right in. He knew he should be afraid. Terrified that Megatron was about to use his mouth to get off with, but he found he barely cared. Vortex had essentially crushed his ability to react to things _actually_ happening. It was the unexpected, constantly being put on edge life he lived that wore on him. Having a spike in his mouth while others watched was something that had a beginning, middle and end point. Unlike the neverending degradation and torture he’d been enduring.

Shifting his hips, Megatron began to thrust. Sunstreaker let his glossa curl around the shaft as he moved in and out of his mouth, hoping Megatron would be pleased with his small effort. The warlord groaned.

“Well trained indeed!” Megatron said, pulling out after a few more thrusts. “Very good, slave.” He pat Sunstreaker’s helm, then pushed him back to the middle of the table. “Vortex, come and fill your slave’s valve.”

Sunstreaker's optics brightened and he bit back the urge to start laughing. He looked at his master, who was clearly surprised by the request.

“With an audience?” Vortex asked.

Megatron moved to sit in his chair. “Yes.” He patted his leg, and Starscream moved over, taking a seat there and fondling Megatron’s onlined spike. “After every meeting, it’s the duty of my inner circle to perform for me.”

Vortex ruffled his blades, then nodded. “Yes, my lord.” He awkwardly stepped closer, and undid his own interface cover before lowering himself down to crawl over top of Sunstreaker. Vortex's spike was onlined, but Sunstreaker could see by his body language he was internally waging a war. A mech disgusted by Autobots was being asked by his lord and leader to stick his spike into one. It tickled Sunstreaker so much, he decided to add insult to injury.

“Please, master. I need you inside me,” Sunstreaker said, smile spreading across his lips.

Vortex faltered at that, hand lifting to slap him.

“You punish your slave for such wanton obedience?” Starscream asked.

“I–” Vortex lowered his hand, and continued his agonizingly slow crawl forward. “I punish him when he mocks me.”

“That sounded like a slave who enjoys his master, much like Starscream’s little one does,” Megatron replied, undertones of disapproval in his voice.

Never in his life had Sunstreaker wanted someone to spike him as much as he wanted Vortex to right this minute. He didn’t care one bit what happened him afterward, selfishly wanting to see this perfect form of revenge be exacted on the sick fragger.

Sunstreaker ran his hands down over his own frame, then sank his fingers into his valve and began to pump them in and out. “ _Please_ , master,” Sunstreaker begged. “I _need_ you.”

Vortex’s anger was clear by the way his visor darkened, but he didn’t visibly show it any other way. In position over Sunstreaker, he huffed air from his intakes, clearly trying to get up the nerve.

Sunstreaker removed his wet fingers from his valve, sticking them in his mouth and making a show of suckling them.

“Your slave is so _eager_ ,” Starscream whined. “Hurry up!”

Lowering his hips, Vortex pushed his spike forward, and Sunstreaker fought to control himself from breaking out in hysterical laughter at his ultimate revenge being realized. He squeezed his valve around the girth filling him, and Vortex grunted. After a long moment, Vortex began to shallowly thrust into Sunstreaker. It was half-sparked, which only tickled Sunstreaker even more.  

“More, master!” Sunstreaker said, arching his body into the bulk over top of him.

“This is one of the most uninspired shows we’ve sat through in eons,” Megatron said. He shoved Starscream off his lap, and stood. Rounding the table, he grabbed Vortex by two of his blades and ripped him off Sunstreaker, tossing him aside. “You’re pathetic! There is no place for you within the inner circle. Stick to what you’re good at, being a lowly interrogator that now helps run the refinery.”

“Lord Megatron, I apologize!” Vortex blubbered as he got to his feet.

Megatron grabbed Sunstreaker by the arm and hauled him off the table, before pushing him forward into Vortex’s grasp. “Everyone get out! _Except_ Starscream,” he said, glancing at the Air commander with a dark look.

Sunstreaker was hauled out before he could even snap his array shut. Vortex’s grip on his arm was so tight it left dents in his plating. Once they were in the hallway, Vortex slammed Sunstreaker into a wall and punched him so hard in the face his vision went out in one optic for a moment.

“You disgusting slutty fragged up glitch!” Vortex punched him again. "You ruined everything!" Vortex's fists pummeled his head and chest with all his fury.

Sunstreaker felt a small swell of guilt that he might have angered Vortex enough that he wouldn’t return to Smokescreen like he promised. At the same time a part of hoped this was it. Hoped Vortex would beat him until he offlined. That he'd finally have that sweet release from the pain of this life he’d wanted since the moment he’d been collared and sold.

“You’re barely even trying,” Sunstreaker shouted, goading Vortex. “Hit me harder! Kill me already!”

Vortex froze, visor bright.

“I hate to interrupt, but if Megatron hears the yelling out here, you’ll both be on a slag heap in short order,” Thundercracker said, strolling up.

Red visor narrowing, Vortex practically growled at Thundercracker. “Frag off, seeker.”

“I was actually hoping you’d be interested in making a deal,” Thundercracker said, canting his head as he pulled out five sticks of credits that was the equivalent of 10,000 credits. Even Sunstreaker’s cracked optics got wider at the sight of so much money.

“What?” Vortex said, clearly not comprehending.

“10,000 for this one, and–” Thundercracker took out another four sticks. “8,000 for the other one I know you have.”

Vortex’s grip on Sunstreaker loosened.

“Imagine what an amazing apartment you could upgrade to,” Thundercracker said, waving the nine sticks in front of Vortex.

“Why do you want my slaves?” Vortex asked, suspicious.

“I want them for my own private reasons,” Thundercracker said as he looked at Sunstreaker.

“This one is disobedient and defiant. He mocks me despite all the training I’ve put into him,” Vortex said, hands tightening their grip on Sunstreaker’s collar. “The other one, he was used like a pleasure drone by those moronic Constructicons. He’s disgusting, spreading his legs for anyone who asks. And you want them? Tell me _why_?”

Thundercracker stared at Vortex for a long moment. “I need servants in my household. And I have no interest in purchasing grounded fliers from the upcoming auctions. I want ground pounders. They’re easier to deal with.”

Vortex eyed the nine sticks in Thundercracker’s hand. “Okay. Take ‘em. I don’t want them anymore. They’re too much work.” He tossed Sunstreaker to the ground in front of Thundercracker, then reached for the credits.

Snapping his hand back, Thundercracker narrowed his optics. “I’ll pay for this one now. You get the rest when I get your other one.” He then handed over five of the sticks.

Sunstreaker stayed on the ground, watching the money transfer him from one master to yet another. His spark sank along with his hopes of finally dying.

Thundercracker stashed the remainder of his credits, then motioned to Sunstreaker. “Stand.”

He did as he was asked, and got to his feet, feeling so defeated.

“Let’s go get the other one,” Thundercracker said to Vortex.

“Sooner I’m rid of them, the better,” Vortex replied, visor dark as he stared at Sunstreaker. “More trouble than they’re even worth.”

They all walked out of the main tower, and Sunstreaker stayed close to his new owner. At least Smokescreen wouldn’t be left alone, but Sunstreaker was not looking forward to being a servant to some self-important Seeker scum.

Arriving at the apartments, they rode the lift up and Vortex stalked down the hall to the place of Sunstreaker’s months and months of torture. The door opened and he stood with Thundercracker just inside the door as Vortex disappeared to get Smokescreen.

“No, please! I’ll be good, master. I’ll do anything you want. Don’t send me away!”

Vortex emerged with Smokescreen, dragging him along by the arm.

The minute Smokescreen saw Sunstreaker’s beaten appearance, he began to tremble with fear. “No, please, master,” he whispered.

Thundercracker held out the remaining four credit sticks, and Vortex snatched them out of his hand. “Take this disgusting thing,” he said, throwing Smokescreen forward.

Sunstreaker caught his friend before he fell, hugging him close to whisper in his audio. “Vortex beat me, not this mech.”

“Get them out of my home!” Vortex angrily said.

“Come with me. Please don’t do anything that will require the use of leads. It’s unseemly,” Thundercracker said, looking at the pair.

“Yes, master,” Sunstreaker replied. Smokescreen nodded and pressed against Sunstreaker’s side.

They followed their new master out of the apartment of horrors, and Sunstreaker wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or not. He glanced back to see Vortex standing in the doorway, watching them leave. Their gazes met, and the tyrant ruffled his blades then went back inside. At the very least, he’d gotten his revenge on that sick fragger.


	7. Losing Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunstreaker and Smokescreen are moved to their new home, but it's not what either expected.

Jazz woke first, and smiled as his visor dimly lit. He’d spent the night sandwiched between Bluestreak and Mirage in their large berth. Mirage didn’t like to recharge alone, and Jazz didn’t mind having him here once he and Bluestreak had finished having some “alone time”. In fact, he liked how nice it felt to be surrounded by comforting warmth on both sides.

After his evening with Bluestreak, he was feeling more like himself again. Though, a part of him felt unsure about having confessed his feelings about falling for him. He gazed at Bluestreak’s offlined face currently snuggled against his shoulder, knowing there was no escaping that warm spark flutter he felt around him. Who knew a relationship would ever happen to him, let alone one blossoming with a timer attached to their encounters.

Stretching his neck, he pressed a feather-light kiss to the dark red chevron adorning Bluestreak’s helm.

A dark grey hand pressed over his chest, and Jazz snapped his attention to Mirage.

“Quite a thrum your spark is making,” Mirage whispered, raising an optic ridge.

“He makes me happy,” Jazz whispered back.

Mirage withdrew his hand and smiled. “That’s a wonderful thing.”

“Be more wonderful in a different world, but I’ll take what I can get,” Jazz quietly replied.

Optics dimming, Mirage nodded.

Suddenly the intercom sounded. “Mirage, Bluestreak, and guest Jazz, I have a meeting to attend. Soundwave will be here for Jazz in two hours.”

Bluestreak groaned and flopped an arm over Jazz’s middle. “I fragging hate that intercom,” he whined.

Mirage chuckled. “Not a morning mech, hm, Blue?”

Dimly lighting his optics, Bluestreak glanced at Mirage then Jazz and grinned. “Both my favorite mechs in my berth. Okay, now shut up. I need more recharge.” He snuggled against Jazz and offlined his optics again.

Jazz snickered and kissed Bluestreak’s helm. Mirage smiled and cuddled up closer to Jazz before letting his optics flicker off. Jazz relaxed, relenting to the desire of the mech that had a firm hold on his spark, drifting off for a little more rest.

...

 

It was a different world in the main tower. Everything here was so clean and pristine, unlike the dank lobby and halls of the apartments Vortex lived in. Sunstreaker and Smokescreen stood together in the lift, watching the numbers on the floor counter climb. How far up did Thundercracker live, anyway?

The seeker glanced over his shoulder at them, staring for a moment. “You’ll need a medic,” he said, locking gazes with Sunstreaker’s cracked optics.

He quickly dropped his gaze downward. “Yes, master,” Sunstreaker reflexively replied. He felt Smokescreen’s grasp tighten around his arm.

The lift finally stopped, they disembarked and followed Thundercracker down the long corridor to a large door. He waved his hand over the keypadless lock, and the door slid open. Inside, Thundercracker pointed to a very nice-looking small couch in the entryway. “Have a seat.”

They obeyed and sat down. Thundercracker frowned as he walked down a hallway and disappeared.

“This place looks big,” Smokescreen said, pointing to another hallway that went off in another direction.

Sunstreaker nodded.

“Holy slag, Sunny! Smokescreen!” Jazz's familiar voice said.

They glanced over, both equally shocked to see not one, but three of their comrades walking in front of Thundercracker.

“Mirage? Blue? Jazz?” Smokescreen let go of his hold on Sunstreaker’s arm and bolted from the small couch, leaping into a group hug with the three mechs.

Sunstreaker didn’t move, though.  

After the initial round of hugs, Jazz sauntered over and smiled at Sunstreaker. “Didn’t get yourself killed, I see.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Sunstreaker replied.

“Sunny’s looked after me,” Smokescreen said, still tangled in an embrace with Bluestreak.

Jazz glanced over at him and smiled.

The door chimed, and Thundercracker waved his hand over the pad. On the other side stood Soundwave and the medic, Tremorwave.

“Lookie who I rode in the lift with,” Tremorwave said, walking in with his tool kit and setting it down next to Sunstreaker’s feet to riffle through it.

Soundwave and Thundercracker nodded hello to one another.

“Vortex’s Autobots obtained already?” Soundwave asked, looking at the small gathering.

“It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up,” Thundercracker replied. “I don’t have the space for them, here, though. And Megatron will start demanding more of my attention if he finds out I bought _that_ particular one.” He jerked his head in Sunstreaker’s direction.

Sunstreaker frowned at the seeker. “What the frag does that mean? You bought us and you don’t even want us? What kind of sick game are you playing at?” He started to stand up, but Tremorwave grabbed his wrist, and tugged him back down.

“Chill out, Sunshine. TC’s one of the good guys, here,” Jazz said.

“Him, Soundwave and Shockwave are working to rescue abused Autobots when possible,” Mirage added.

“Affirmative. Plans for you and your comrade’s retrieval have been underway,” Soundwave intoned.

Thundercracker walked over, holding Sunstreaker’s gaze. “You have a lot of fire left in you. That’s good. You'll need that when the time comes to fight again. But don’t so be quick to judge things you don’t understand.”

“Right, whatever. Says the mech who watches Megatron frag slaves for entertainment,” Sunstreaker spat back. “I sure hope you and your stupid trine liked getting an optic full of my array.”

Thundercracker narrowed his optics and flicked his wings. “Listen carefully. I do not enjoy _anything_ that tyrant does. And who do you think provided his entertainment before there were slaves? Hm? My trine was certainly a favorite, and any commanding officer could be put in the very same position you were in. We are working to stop him, so be grateful I didn’t let you and Vortex get caught. Otherwise you’d be both be in a smelting pool to be reused for pouring metal slabs.”

Sunstreaker felt all his comrade’s optics on him and sullenly frowned as he looked down at the floor.

“Jazz, it is time to return with me,” Soundwave said, breaking the moment of uncomfortable silence that followed Thundercracker’s remarks.

Bluestreak's doorwings lowered and he pulled Jazz into a hug. “See you soon."

“Definitely,” Jazz replied. They shared a quick kiss, then let go of each other. Jazz moved to Soundwave's side.

“Tremorwave, take Sunstreaker and Smokescreen via your shuttle to Shockwave’s compound once repairs are done. I will alert him you will be coming,” Soundwave said.

“ _Please_ ,” Thundercracker added on Soundwave’s behalf with a small smile.

“Sure thing,” Tremorwave replied as he mixed up a clear compound in a small container.

“We aren’t staying here?” Smokescreen asked, doorwings drooping.

“Due to proximity to Lord Megatron and Commander Starscream, safety cannot be ensured within the Tower,” Soundwave replied.

“You guys will have it pretty good out there. There’s more Autobots and Prowl’s in charge,” Jazz said, smiling.

“Prowl?” Smokescreen looked surprised, but in a good way. “Frag, I thought he was dead.”

“Hard to keep a mech like Prowl down,” Jazz replied.

Soundwave then turned and walked a few paces to the door, gesturing for Jazz to follow. Jazz didn’t hesitate to react, falling in step with his master. Thundercracker opened the door and they nodded goodbye to one another.

“Offline your optics and stay still for me, hm?” Tremorwave said, holding a tool that had a dab of the clear gunk he’d been mixing on the end.

Sunstreaker did as he was told, and let his optics flicker off. He stiffened when he felt familiar warmth as his side, and fingers take hold of his hand. He guessed it was Smokescreen, and squeezed the hand in his grasp.

The clear gel-like substance coated his optic glass. It was cold and felt really weird to have the tool push it into the cracked surface. Once the medic was done with one optic, he moved the second one, and Sunstreaker grimaced at the odd sensation being repeated.

“All done,” Tremorwave announced. “You can online them. It will take about a day to fully cure, so no poking your optics. Not that you’d do that, but you know what I mean.”

Sunstreaker onlined them, and saw it was in fact Smokescreen holding his hand. He gave him a half-sparked smile, and then focused on the floor again, remaining silent. Being handed off from owner to owner, and watching Jazz be so obedient to Soundwave didn’t sit well with him. Plus that little factoid slipped in that they were going to be owned by Shockwave next didn’t help ease his mind much either. He was tired of this slagheap of a life he was trapped in. Being smelted down actually sounded pretty good...

“These other injuries will heal on their own. Nothing a little care to his plating with wax and a dent remover won’t cure,” Tremorwave announced after looking Sunstreaker over carefully. He then shoved the items he’d taken out back in his tool box and slammed the top closed. “Alright then, let’s get you two over to the compound.”

Smokescreen got up, pulling Sunstreaker by the hand to do the same. With a sigh, he reluctantly got to his feet.

“Are we going to see you again?” Smokescreen asked. “Jazz can visit, so can we do that, too?”

“We aren’t allowed out of the apartment, and I don’t think you’ll be allowed off the compound, either,” Bluestreak replied.

Thundercracker frowned a little. “I have considered taking them to the compound to visit, but as of now they are safest here. What happened to Sunstreaker may happen to one of them if Lord Megatron is made more aware of their presence.”

Sunstreaker caught the dual looks of surprise Mirage and Bluestreak gave him.

“Until things progress, you may not see one another for a while,” Thundercracker explained.

Smokescreen let go of Sunstreaker pulled Bluestreak and Mirage into another hug. Bluestreak gestured to Sunstreaker to come join them, but he looked away. He didn’t want any part of their mushy goodbye. Smokescreen let go and looked back over at Sunstreaker. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’ll be alright,” he said to the other two.

“Well, let’s get going, shall we?” Tremorwave said, clapping his hands before picking up his tool box. “I have another appointment to get to.”

Smokescreen returned to Sunstreaker’s side, smiling up at him.

The irony of Smokescreen of all mechs offering to look out for him might have been amusing if not also a sad statement on their mental states after being used as drugged out pleasure drones and then tortured by Vortex day in and day out. What he truly hoped for his abused Praxian friend was that he’d be happier at this new place with Prowl in charge. And if so, then Sunstreaker could snuff out his spark and be done with this mess of a so-called life once and for all.

…

 

Everyone had settled in the lounge for the evening. Ironhide and Ironfist played an old card game found in the junk pile, and Prowl sat pressed against Sideswipe’s side on the couch while his lover watched some old show and he read through some intell on a datapad Shockwave had given him earlier in the day.

The intercom unexpectedly came on. “Prowl, please come to the front of the compound,” Shockwave’s voice ordered.

Three sets of optics turned to him.

“What does he want?” Sideswipe asked.

“I have no idea.” Prowl turned off the datapad and set it down on the nearby table. “I’ll go find out.” He kissed Sideswipe on the cheek, and then got to his feet and quietly left the habitation area. 

After breaking down in Sideswipe’s arms the night before, he felt closer than ever to him. His beautiful red warrior ha become a ray of light in this otherwise dark world that Prowl could hold fast to when he felt weak. It felt good to have someone to care about and who cared so much for him.

Reaching the front, Prowl’s optics brightened at the sight of Sunstreaker and Smokescreen.

“Holy slag, it really is you, Prowl!” Smokescreen looked delighted.

“As you can see, they’ve been liberated ahead of schedule,” Shockwave said as Prowl approached.

Smokescreen pulled Prowl into a hug. “I see that,” Prowl replied, returning the affectionate greeting and patting his fellow Praxian on the back. He looked at Sunstreaker, noticing his face and chest were dented and scraped. “Good to see you, Sunstreaker.”

Sunstreaker frowned and nodded.

“Prowl will take you both to the habitation area of the compound.” Shockwave gestured to the hallway Prowl had just come down.

“You have a dent remover?” Smokescreen asked, letting go of Prowl.

Prowl nodded. “In the washracks, yes.”

“Maybe we can finish fixing Sunny up, then,” Smokescreen said, shooting a smile at Sunstreaker.

“Don’t worry about me,” Sunstreaker quietly replied.

Which of course only made Prowl worry. “Let’s get you two settled in.” He gestured for them to follow. “Goodnight,” he said looking at Shockwave.

“Rest well,” Shockwave replied.

Smokescreen took hold of Sunstreaker’s hand and pulled on him to follow Prowl. Partway down the long, winding hallway, Smokescreen tweaked one of Prowl’s doorwings from behind. “So you don’t call Shockwave ‘master’ or anything?”

Prowl playfully bat at Smokescreen’s hand with his doorwing. “No. The only title you would ever apply to him would be ‘sir’. We’re basically operating under a loose military structure with him at the top,” Prowl explained.

“Shockwave’s our leader? That’s not fragged up or anything,” Sunstreaker muttered.

“Actually, _I’m_ your leader. He just oversees us to keep us safe here,” Prowl replied, glancing at Sunstreaker over his shoulder.

Sunstreaker dropped his gaze and frowned.

“Huh. So what’s the deal then? Are we prisoners here?” Smokescreen asked.

“Not exactly. We have freedom within these walls. And we’re assisting Shockwave to build up resources for overthrowing Megatron,” Prowl explained.

They reached the double doors to the habitation area which slid open when Prowl got close enough. He led the two newest additions inside and they were met with surprised looks.

“Smokescreen, Sunstreaker, this will be your home now,” Prowl said.

Ironfist, Ironhide and Sideswipe all got to their feet to greet them. Prowl stood aside to let them mingle together. Ironfist was friendly as usual, introducing himself with vigorous handshakes. Ironhide stood to the side, nodding hellos to them, and Sideswipe… he was standing still, staring at Sunstreaker. The sullen, dark expression on Sunstreaker’s face shifted to distress as he stared back at Sideswipe.

After a tense moment, Sideswipe took a tentative step closer, and half-smiled. “Still alive, huh?”

Sunstreaker looked Sideswipe’s frame up and down, focus pausing at the scars on his chestplate. He reached out, fingertips touching one of the scars. “And so are you.”

Prowl felt a flare of jealousy in his spark as he watched them. Why was Sunstreaker touching Sideswipe like that? Those were the scars Prowl kissed and touched. Sideswipe was _his_ to care for, and the one that cared for him. He dimmed his optics and grimaced, unsure why he was having such an extreme reaction to the scene unfolding before him. It wasn’t like him to jump to conclusions without proof or facts.

Sunstreaker’s fingers moved to another scar. “What happened?”

“Cut to ribbons by my boosthead owner, Wildrider,” Sideswipe replied as he poked at a dent in Sunstreaker’s upper chestplate. “You?”

“Beaten by Vortex after humiliating him in front of Megatron,” Sunstreaker replied, fingers lingering on Sideswipe as he stepped a little closer.

“So there’s lots of rooms to pick from,” Ironfist said to Smokescreen.

“Which four are already taken?” Smokescreen asked.

“Three,” Prowl said. “Three are taken, the rest are available.”

“Oh yeah, Prowl and Sides are sharing a room,” Ironfist said, rubbing the back of his helm and chuckling.

Sunstreaker snapped his hand away from Sideswipe and glanced at Prowl. Holding the gaze for a moment, Prowl hoped he’d made the point obvious enough. Sunstreaker looked back down at the floor, and took a step back. Sideswipe frowned and suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“How about you guys pick your rooms? I’ll make plaques to put on the doors tomorrow,” Ironfist said, oblivious to the tension.

Ironhide shook his head as he cast a sharp look at Prowl. “Think I’ll take a pass through the ‘racks while y’all sort things out.”

Prowl’s doorwings lowered. He was no leader. Not really. And he knew he was acting petty, but he’d never had someone like Sideswipe in his life before. Up until this moment, he never imagined losing him to someone else.

Ironfist dragged Smokescreen down the hallway to where the rooms were. Sunstreaker was quick to follow them.

“This is the one they share, this one is mine, and this one is Ironhide’s,” Ironfist said, explaining to the newcomers.

Sunstreaker walked into the next open room and went inside, shutting the door.

“Sunny?” Smokescreen asked, lightly tapping the door before opening it and letting himself in.

Sideswipe looked at Prowl, mouth opening then snapping back shut.

Ironfist wandered back out, looking confused. “I dunno what just happened, but they’re both in the one room now. Was it me? Was I being too chatty?”

“It wasn’t you,” Sideswipe said. “Sunny is just… _difficult_.”

“I wasn’t aware you knew one another so well,” Prowl said, treading carefully. “You were mostly stationed apart during the fighting.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I asked for us to be.” Sideswipe sighed. “Think this is a conversation we should have in private, Prowl. No offense, Ironfist.”

Ironfist shrugged his shoulders. “No worries. I can poke at some projects in my room–”

Prowl put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed. “Ironhide will be back out shortly. We’ll go to our room. Stay out here. Don’t let us interrupt your evening.”

Ironfist nodded and watched Prowl and Sideswipe retreat to their room. He sighed, then returned to the abandoned card game at the table. He picked his cards up, and began to organize his hand.

“Didn’t peek at my cards, did ya?” Ironhide said walking out from the washrack area.

Ironfist smiled behind his mask. “No way. I don’t cheat!”

Ironhide was trailing water off his not quite dried frame as he sat back down across from Ironfist and picked up his cards. “They all cleared out pretty fast.”

“Something happened. I dunno what, though,” Ironfist replied, gazing at the entrance to the rooms. “Sunstreaker suddenly went into an empty room, and Smokescreen went in after him, then Sides and Prowl got all weird and said they needed to talk, and disappeared, too. I must be really boring!” he said, joking.

“Not at all,” Ironhide replied. “Just the past comin’ up and biting them all in the aft when they least expected it.”

Ironfist gazed at Ironhide. “Will things be okay, you think?”

“As soon as Prowl gets his head out of his aft and lets those two sort out things, then yeah. it’ll simmer down,” Ironhide replied, setting a card down on the table.

“Which two?” Ironfist asked.

Ironhide warmly smiled. “Sides and Sunny.” He gazed fondly at Ironfist. “You remind me so much of ‘Jack it’s a little eerie sometimes. The semi-cluelessness, and that sweet-spark wantin’ the best for others...”

Ironfist’s face flushed with heat at the compliment. “I’ve never been too good at interpersonal stuff, but I try.” Ironfist nervously chuckled. “I wonder what happened to Wheeljack,” he said, placing his next card down on the table. “I miss how we used to talk about technical specs for hours. I could use his help in the lab, too.”

“He’s safe, I hope,” Ironhide quietly replied.

Ironfist’s gaze snapped up. “You know what happened to him?”

“He left on a ship that was supposed to be our salvation. Don't think they made it or if they did, they aren't coming back,” Ironhide said, sadness overtaking his features.

“Salvation?" Ironfist asked, optics bright.

“They took the matrix with 'em. They were gonna figure out how to use it. Come back and save us all,” Ironhide dimmed his optics, his war etched face suddenly looking worn and tired.

“They left before that final battle?” Ironfist asked.

“Yep.” Ironhide sadly frowned. “Sorta hope they're alive, but it's been so long now. I've pretty much lost any hope of being freed. Not that it matters much at this point. I'm a used up husk, not worth much to anyone at this point.”

“Ironhide…” Ironfist reached across the table, and gave the back of his hand a squeeze. “If it helps, I’m really glad you’re here.” Ever since Ironhide had ventured out and they talked that first night, he’d stopped feeling quite so isolated here.

Setting his cards down, Ironhide sandwiched the teal-colored hand between his own black ones. “Believe me, it helps to hear that more than you know.”

…

 

“I’m not leaving,” Smokescreen said, sitting at the foot of the berth Sunstreaker had curled up on.

“It’s a wasted effort, you know,” Sunstreaker said, his spark aching for his brother. “I’m not worth it. Just be happy here and forget about me.”

Heaving a sigh, Smokescreen crawled over and spooned against Sunstreaker’s back. “I’m not gonna just forget about you. Primus, Sunny, we survived Vortex together. You were the first mech to be good to me in _so_ long. Why are you all the sudden acting so strange? Was it what happened? The things you mentioned to Thundercracker about being exposed in front of him...is that what’s getting to you?”

Desensitized from his time with Vortex meant that being watched and used earlier hadn’t really bothered him that much, which was disturbing but not unexpected. Seeing Sideswipe after all this time is what had thrown him for a loop. No, it was more than that, it was seeing Sideswipe was already _with_ someone and knowing there was no going back to what they once were that was upsetting him. He clenched his teeth and shivered from the burning pain in his spark. It hurt so much…  “When I kissed you goodbye earlier, you were turned on by it,” Sunstreaker said more as a statement of fact than a question.

“Maybe, a little.” Smokescreen snaked an arm around Sunstreaker’s middle. “Why does that matter?”

Sunstreaker shifted, lying on his back and gazing at Smokescreen. More than anything he wanted the ache to stop. “Would you still want to ‘face with me now that we’re not being forced to?”

Pushing up onto an elbow, Smokescreen looked vaguely confused. “Hadn’t thought about it, but sure. If that’s what you wanted.”

What he wanted was to rip his stupid spark out of his chest, but in lieu of that, a distraction would hopefully help. He gently pulled Smokescreen down into a kiss. Doorwings flaring, Smokescreen happily submitted to him and deepened it. Their glossae tangled together between their linked mouths, and Sunstreaker’s whole body hummed with arousal. Whether it was just the training Vortex had put him through, or desperation to feel something other than loss of his idealized love, Sunstreaker was turned on in an instant.

Smokescreen broke the kiss with a soft gasp, his optics darkened as he crawled over Sunstreaker, straddling his hips and grinding their interface covers together.

Pushing a hand between Smokescreen’s legs, he cupped the heated cover. “Open up for me?”

Placing his hands on Sunstreaker’s chest, he lifted his hips up and the cover snapped back. Sunstreaker sank two fingers into the already wet, heated valve, aware he was taking advantage of Smokescreen’s desire to please, but he selfishly didn’t care. Dazed by lust and his crushed spark, he opened his own array cover and rubbed his spike over the dewy entrance before tucking the head just inside the rim.

“You have the most perfect spike.” Smokescreen sighed as lowered himself down over it.

Sunstreaker’s hands rested on his hips, and he moaned. “You have a hot, tight valve,” he replied.

Smokescreen leaned over and captured his lips in another searing kiss that ended with a playful nip of his lower lip. “You like how I feel around you?” he asked, gyrating his pelvic unit with Sunstreaker buried inside him.

“Frag, _yes_ ,” Sunstreaker groaned, spike surging inside his friend.

They moved together easily thanks to all their practice. Smokescreen rode his spike, moaning wantonly. Sunstreaker eventually tugged him down against his chest and then rolled them over, mindful of the doorwings as he did. He then began to thrust hard and fast into the now familiar valve. The shiver of Smokescreen’s body beneath him and the hot heat he slid into over and over felt incredible.

Reaching a fevered pitch, Smokescreen writhed and whimpered, and his body was jarred with each of Sunstreaker’s hard thrusts. “Oh Primus,” Smokescreen breathed. His hands grasped the top edge Sunstreaker’s already dented chest plate as he rolled his head back and cried out, overloading.

Sunstreaker bit down on the exposed part of Smokescreen’s neck below his collar, and continued to impale him, chasing down his own overload.

“ _Sunny_.” Smokescreen said his name in a reverent tone, as he lifted his legs up and hooked his feet around his lower back. “I’m totally going to come twice…”.

At the new angle, Sunstreaker slid to the hilt, completely filling that valve over and over until he felt the shuddering of a second overload claim Smokescreen. The tightness of that grasping valve the second time was enough to send Sunstreaker over the edge, too. He surged forward, spike buried deep and jerking with each rush of fluid escaping as he roared and shivered at the sensation of release.

As it finally passed, Sunstreaker sank down over Smokescreen, dazed and thoroughly exhausted. He felt fingers gently pet one of his helm fins, and offlined his optics.

“You get some rest,” Smokescreen said, voice warm and hushed.

Sunstreaker responded the gentle command, and let go of this fragged up reality, giving into the tempting darkness of recharge.


	8. Compounding Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunstreaker struggles to cope. Prowl starts to learn about the more subtle parts of being a true leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned into a character development chapter...

The door slid shut, and Prowl sat down heavily on the berth. "I'm sorry."

Sideswipe looked confused. "Why are _you_ sorry?" He asked, sitting down next to Prowl.

Prowl looked at Sideswipe and lowered his doorwings in a submissive gesture. "I acted possessively and we have not discussed the exclusivity of this relationship. I assumed which I shouldn't have."

Leaning over, Sideswipe kissed the center of Prowl's chevron. "I'm with you. Just you." He then sighed and frowned. "Thing is, I'm the one keeping secrets."

"Secrets?" Prowl asked.

Sideswipe looked away, sadness overtaking his features. "Sunny’s my brother. My _twin_ brother."

Furrowing his brow, Prowl shook his head. "That would have been in the records when you joined. And you don't look like twins. Your base coloring... it's different," Prowl replied in disbelief.

"Not spilt-spark twins, we're fraternal," Sideswipe clarified, looking back up at Prowl.

That revelation changed everything. "You're _bonded_ by creation." Prowl then looked away, unexpectedly disappointed. Not that they'd ever talked about it, or that they'd even survive long enough to be free again, but bonding with Sideswipe someday in the distant future was suddenly no longer a possibility.

"We are, but the bond has been dormant longer than it was active." Sideswipe sighed. "Used to think he was the beginning and end of my whole world. But as time dragged on and things got more desperate in the beginning of the war we started bickering more and more."

Prowl glanced at Sideswipe. Even just in profile, he could see so much sadness coloring his expression.

"Right after we joined up, we had a huge blow out fight. I told him I needed space. Thing is, we spent everyday together. I felt smothered by his presence. I just wanted to work on figuring out who I was, if that makes sense. He took it badly, and refused to talk to me." Sideswipe leaned forward, cradling his helm in his hands. "I love and hate him all at once. Miss and worry about him but at the same time didn't make any effort to see him. I'm a horrible brother."

Reaching over, Prowl gently rubbed Sideswipe's back. This was a force of nature he couldn't stand in the way of. He understood that now. They were created to be with one another and Prowl knew he needed to accept that he would lose Sideswipe to his spark-bonded eventually. Maybe not soon, but it would happen.

"You should try and talk to him. We’re under one roof now and it's important we get along," Prowl said.

Sighing, Sideswipe nodded. "I'll try. He's more of a stubborn glitch than I am, though," Sideswipe replied with a wry smile. He then sat back up and turned to better face Prowl. "No matter what, though, you're the one I need. The one that I _want_ to be with."

Sadly smiling, Prowl nodded.

"Come here." Sideswipe tugged on Prowl.

Letting himself be pulled in close, Prowl pressed a loving kiss to one of the scars before being wrapped up in large protective arms. Sideswipe nuzzled Prowl's chevron, and left little kisses along the top of his helm crest. For whatever time he had left with Sideswipe, Prowl decided he'd relish each moment.

...

 

With more mechs to organize, Prowl was busier than he'd been in a long time. They were all in the lab the next day, working on the various projects Ironfist and Shockwave had underway. Ironhide and Sideswipe helped with heavy objects for the drone construction, moving them into place on the building platform. Smokescreen was good with his hands, so he was assigned to assemble some of the internal circuitry. Sunstreaker had been clearly uncomfortable being near Sideswipe, so Prowl had him going through the junk pile with Ironfist looking for anything useful.

"This good for anything?" Sunstreaker asked, holding up a coil of cabling.

"Oh yeah, that's great." Ironfist was being extra cheerful, which Prowl hoped wouldn't annoy Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe kept glancing over at his brother, and Prowl hoped at some point the two would talk. Things couldn't stay this way. Not if they were going to be a functioning team.

"Prowl, I don't think I did this part right," Smokescreen said, frowning at the circuit board he'd been working on.

"Ironfist, could you assist Smokescreen?" Prowl asked.

"Sure thing," Ironfist replied, wading out of the pile of junk.

Prowl stepped into the mountain of salvage about ten paces from Sunstreaker and began to pick through, looking for anything useful. In his peripheral he saw Sunstreaker pick up a long pointed piece of scrap metal. The golden mech then turned, so Prowl couldn't see what he was doing. Before he could puzzle out what Sunstreaker was up to, Sideswipe came running over, shouting.

"Sunny! Don't!" Sideswipe tackled his brother, the crunch of junk echoing in the lab.

Everyone turned their attention to the two now rolling around, struggling to gain control over something in Sunstreaker's hand. Prowl suddenly realized what was happening and started to wade his way over to them.

"Let go!" Sunstreaker yelled, punching Sideswipe hard in the face. "Let me fragging die!"

"No! Stop being such a glitch!" Sideswipe shouted back.

Prowl was no more than three paces away when he watched in horror as they rolled in the scrap pile and a rogue piece of metal impaled Sideswipe, sharp end pushing all the way through and jutting out of his middle.

With wide, terrified optics Prowl stared at the puncture wound for a moment, and everything seeming to slow down around him. Shouts from Sunstreaker, the others all hurrying over. Then he took a deep breath and let the air escape his intakes slowly. He needed to focus. Things sped up again, and Prowl fell into his leadership role quickly handing out orders.

"Ironfist! Comm Shockwave! We need a medic!" Prowl yelled as he reached Sideswipe and shoved Sunstreaker aside.

Sideswipe's whole frame shivered as he fingered the end of metal sticking out of him. "Frag," he whispered.

"No, Sides!" Sunstreaker's anguished cry resonated in the large room. “I’m supposed to die, not you!”

"On your feet Sunstreaker!" Prowl barked, trying to snap him back to reality.

Cerulean optics looked up at Prowl, then Sunstreaker got to his feet and dropped the sharp piece of metal they’d fought over.

"Ironhide, Sunstreaker, we need to lift him off the object and move him to a flat clean area."

They reacted to his orders as if he were Prime himself, each taking a side and lifting Sideswipe free of the sharp metal. They laid him out on a clear patch of floor, and Prowl examined the injury. The hole was relatively small, but he surmised there must be a gash in the side of Sideswipe's fuel tank. It was the only way to account for amount of the energon quickly pooling under him.

"I need something to field patch his tank," Prowl said, pressing his fingers inside the wound to find the rupture he suspected was there.

"Here!" Smokescreen ran over with a tube of super bond. "Maybe this would work?"

"I'll try anything," Prowl said, taking the tube.

He felt a jagged hole in the metal with his fingers, and then pulled them out. He pressed the end of the tube into the wound up against the tank about where he’d felt the injury, squeezing the bond over it, hoping it was enough to stem the bleeding out of his tank. He glanced up at Sideswipe’s face, noticing his optics flickering.

"Don't you dare die on me," Prowl said to Sideswipe.

"Trying not to," Sideswipe weakly replied.

"Sides, I'm sorry. I'm s _o_ sorry," Sunstreaker said, kneeling down at Sideswipe's head and reaching out to pet his helm.

The door to the lab opened and Shockwave hurried over. "You," he said, pointing to Ironhide. "Carry him and follow me. We'll take my private shuttle to Tremorwave's."

Ironhide frowned at Shockwave but did as he was told, lifting Sideswipe up in his arms and following Shockwave. Prowl hurried after them. He wasn’t leaving Sideswipe’s side until he was ordered to by Shockwave. At the door to the lab, he glanced back at Smokescreen, Ironfist and Sunstreaker. “All of you, return the habitation suite right now.”

They practically jogged through the twisting corridors of the compound and then out one of the side exits. The long walkway ended at a small shuttle. Shockwave opened the side hatch.

“Place him down here,” Shockwave said, pointing with his laser hand at the floor just behind the pilot seat.

Ironhide climbed up and then carefully put Sideswipe down.

“Return to the habitation suites, Ironhide. Be sure no one leaves the area. Prowl, you will ride with us,” Shockwave said as he got up into the shuttle and sat down, initiating the engines.

“What if Sunny tries to off himself while you all are gone?” Ironhide asked as he looked at Prowl.

“He won’t. Not until he knows Sideswipe is alright. Just keep an optic on all of them while we’re away. I’m leaving you in charge,” Prowl replied before climbing up into the shuttle and settling on the floor next to Sideswipe.

Ironhide’s cold expression softened a little as he gazed at Prowl. “You’re different than you used to be.”

Prowl looked up and sadly frowned. “We all are.”

The door to the shuttle lifted up and closed.

…

 

Tremorwave greeted them when they landed and Sideswipe was quickly moved inside the odd facility. Prowl and Shockwave stood out of the way as the medic set to work. Sideswipe was first knocked offline, and then hooked up to a fuel drip that bypassed his tanks. His abdomen plating was removed and Tremorwave carefully examined the injury.

“Glue?” Tremorwave asked, grabbing a tool to scoop out the super bond with.

“He was bleeding out,” Prowl replied. “I didn’t have a proper patching agent.”

“Shockwave, you _should_ have a field repair kit or _three_ placed around your compound,” Tremorwave said as he cleaned up the gooey mess. “I’ll send you off with a few.”

“I hadn’t anticipated this sort of injury occurring, but I appreciate your generosity,” Shockwave replied.

“They aren’t free,” Tremorwave replied, laughing a little. “But I won’t overcharge you.”

Prowl’s gaze focused on those white hands moving with swift efficiency. In his peripheral, he could see on the monitor that Sideswipe’s systems were all stabilizing with the fuel drip.

Shockwave moved over to an empty chair and sat. “How much extra to keep him for the day and smooth the scarring on his plating?”

“What makes you think I’m not busy?” Tremorwave asked, getting his hand held welder out and prepping it.

“I see no other mechs here,” Shockwave replied.

Tremorwave looked over at Shockwave, golden optics narrowing. “You’ve had this one for months and now you want his plating fixed up? Why?”

“Because he’s already here,” Shockwave replied.

“I suppose I could it squeeze him in,” Tremorwave replied with a small smile. He turned the welder on and set to work repairing the hole in Sideswipe’s tank. It didn’t take long. A few passes and little prodding with a flat metal tool, the hole was welded back close. “All set.” Tremorwave turned off the welder and began to clean his tools off with a rag. “Leave him with me overnight and I’ll drop him off once his plating is all smoothed out.”

Shockwave pushed to stand. “Thank you.” He pulled out several credit sticks, and carefully placed them on the foot of the medical berth. “This should cover all your services.”

Prowl quickly calculated how much was there; 10,000 credits.

“Generous,” Tremorwave said with a grin as he picked them up and stuffed them in his subspace pocket. “There’s field repair kits near the front entrance. Take three with you on the way out.”

“Come, Prowl.” Shockwave reached out, touching Prowl’s elbow.

Jerking back from the touch, Prowl’s doorwings flared and he locked gazes with the singular optic. His whole frame trembled with the memory of lying on that low level table and being inappropriately touched.

Shockwave held his hand up in a defensive gesture. “I apologize. I forgot myself for a moment.”

Prowl could feel Tremorwave’s gaze on them, but ignored it as best he could. “We should go,” Prowl quietly replied, before leading the way out of the complex maze of junk-filled rooms.

Shockwave’s benign touch to his elbow had set off a fresh wave of anxiety that was making his fuel tank churn uncomfortably. Prowl was disappointed in himself for being so weak, still. The unseen damage ran deeper than he realized and he had no idea how to get past what happened. Or if that was even possible for him...

Once they were in the shuttle, Prowl took a seat on the floor near the energon stain from Sideswipe and sighed as he stared at it.

Shockwave sat in the pilot seat after stowing the repair kits, then turned the swivel chair to face Prowl. “I _am_ sorry.”

Prowl looked up at him. “I know. I–” He frowned. “–I wasn’t expecting to react like that. I’m sorry, too.”

The golden optics stared at Prowl for a long moment, his hurt almost palpable. “Let’s go home.” Shockwave replied, sadness coloring his voice as he turned his seat forward again and started up the engines.

…

 

“You don’t know where he is?” Prowl asked, looking between Ironhide, Smokescreen and Ironfist.

“Came back and he was nowhere to be found,” Ironhide replied.

“He ran out of the lab after you left,” Smokescreen added.

“Did you go looking for him?” Prowl asked.

They all shook their heads.

“Just brought these two back to the suite here, and figured he’d show up eventually,” Ironhide replied.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Prowl sighed. “I’m going to look for him.”

“We can help search for him,” Smokescreen offered.

“No, it’s fine. Just, no one else wander off,” Prowl replied with a frown. “Alright?”

The all nodded.

Walking out of the habitation suites, Prowl started a room by room search that followed the path back toward the lab. In the second to last room, Prowl found Sunstreaker. The golden warrior was sitting with his legs pulled up to his chest in a window seat staring out at the desolate landscape.

Prowl quietly wandered closer.

Sunstreaker didn’t look at him. “He okay?”

“Yes, he will be fine. In fact, Shockwave asked for his plating to be smoothed to remove the scarring. He will be returned sometime tomorrow late in the day,” Prowl replied.

“Glad he’s okay. I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Sunstreaker replied.

“I know you didn’t.” Prowl carefully sat down on the other end of the seat and looked out the window. “Sideswipe told me who you are to one another.”

Sunstreaker frowned and dimmed his optics, but remained silent as he continued to stare outside.

Prowl looked over at Sunstreaker. “I have no illusions that what he feels for me will fade in favor of the bond you share.”

“All the more reason to offline myself permanently,” Sunstreaker replied. “Because he’s happier with you than he ever was with me.”

Prowl sadly frowned. “I doubt that.”

“You have no clue. I always loved him more than he loved me. I was stupid to think one day he’d come around again.” Sunstreaker wrapped his arms around his legs. “Now I’m all fragged up in the head, and we’re collared slaves. I have nothing to give him now. Nothing of who I was is left. Just shadows of how I used to be.”

“We’ve all suffered,” Prowl replied. “Sideswipe, too. But this is a place to work on healing.”

Sunstreaker finally looked at Prowl. “I’m too broken to heal. I fragged Smokescreen the other night because I could. Because I know the part of him that’s most broken is his free will. He’ll do anything anyone asks and I took advantage.” He grimaced. “I’m no better than that fragger, Vortex.”

“You sought comfort, and he gave willingly gave it, I’m sure. Especially after all you went through together,” Prowl replied.

Sunstreaker snorted at that.

“I seek comfort with Sideswipe. That’s how it all started between us. I never imagined it would become what it has. I also had no idea you were his fraternal twin until the other night,” Prowl said.

“I don’t love Smokescreen, and I know he doesn’t love me, either.” Sunstreaker looked at Prowl, deep frown etched on his face. “Do you _love_ Sides?”

His doorwings twitched at the direct question. He and Sideswipe had danced around using that word, and neither had said it to the other. Prowl assumed it was because of their slave lives and lack of true freedom, but now he wondered if the real reason was because Sideswipe already loved someone else.

“Simple question, do you?” Sunstreaker asked, again.

“Yes.” The answer surprised even Prowl, but he knew in his spark that he did. “We’ve never told one another that. I suspect because Sideswipe still loves you very much.”

Sunstreaker looked back out the window. “But I don’t make him happy like you do. I can see it in his face when he looks at you.”

Prowl felt for Sunstreaker. Their post-war life was hard enough without the past coming back to tear them down more. “I saw the look on his face when he ran to stop you. You mean the world to him in a way I’ll never even come close to.”

“So now what? I apologize yet again, tell him I love him, he suddenly decides to stop caring about you and forgive me and then we live happily ever after in this fancy prison?” Sunstreaker asked, looking back at Prowl. “He won’t forgive me. So it doesn’t matter how much you think he still loves me.”

“Why would you think that?” Prowl asked.

“Because I was a complete glitch to him. He was pulling away from me and I did everything I could to hold onto him even tighter and in the end I drove him off by being a pathetic, needy aft.” Sunstreaker dimmed his optics as they became glassy with held back tears. “I fragged up so badly he’s avoided me for practically eons.”

“Or, perhaps the longer the gap of time stretched on, the harder it got for either of you to reach across for the other,” Prowl quietly replied.

Frowning, Sunstreaker looked back at Prowl. “Maybe.”

“I won’t stand in the way. Not to say I will end things with him, but when he’s ready it will end. And then you’ll have eachother,” Prowl said, sadness weighing on his spark. It was the right thing to do. He knew that, but Primus it hurt. “Will you let me do something for you?”

“For me?” Sunstreaker asked, instantly suspicious.

“His plating will be restored and shined. Would you let me tend to your dents, and wax your finish? So you’ll look your best when he returns?” Prowl asked.

“Why would you do that?” Sunstreaker asked.

“It’s just something I’d like to do for you,” Prowl replied. In truth, he wanted Sunstreaker to feel cared for. He could tell it had been a very long time since anyone did anything for him without there being some sort of price attached.

“Whatever,” Sunstreaker replied. “If that’s what you want to do. I guess it would be good to look nice for him.”

Prowl nodded. “Then let’s return to the habitation suites.”

Sunstreaker nodded. “‘Kay.”

…

 

Sunstreaker was suspicious of Prowl’s intentions. He only relented because he knew Smokescreen would eventually offer and he didn’t want him doing anything else like that for him. He’d done more than enough at Vortex’s request already.

He stood still in a washrack stall while Prowl used the dent remover on the damage to his upper chestplate. Prowl was completely business like, focused on his task the same way he’d focus on datapads of information. He liked how Prowl’s doorwings twitched behind him, and could see why his brother was attracted to him. He moved with grace. Every step deliberate. No wasted motion. Plus, Praxians were generally nice to look at.

Smokescreen was cute, and sexy as frag when he wanted to be, where as Prowl was a beauty. His brother had pretty good taste.

Prowl’s doorwings lifted a little as he pressed a hand to Sunstreaker’s chest to feel for any less conspicuous denting. “Your plating is warming,” he said, ice blue optics’ gaze lifting.

“Sorry.” Sunstreaker grimaced. “Can’t help it. Trained to turn on easy.”

Sadness flitted over Prowl’s face.

“Won’t try anything. If that’s what you’re worried about,” Sunstreaker said with a frown.

“I’m not worried about that.” Prowl set the dent remover on the stall floor, and picked up a chamois and can of wax. “I’m just sorry you suffered so much.”

“It was easier being a pleasure drone with holes for Motormaster,” Sunstreaker said as the chamois began to work the wax over his plating. He relaxed a little with the rhythmic circular strokes of the cloth. “Being drugged up makes it all blurry and hurt less.”

“Vortex didn’t drug you?” Prowl asked, pushing the cloth down Sunstreaker’s arm making the same little circles.

“Detoxed me. Cleaned me up. Wanted arm candy for showing off,” Sunstreaker replied, optics dimming at the pleasant sensation of being waxed by hand.

“Megatron does like seeing us as glimmering accessories for his officers,” Prowl replied.

Sunstreaker snapped out of his semi-trance at that, and frowned. “Wait, Shockwave takes you around like that? I didn’t think you ever left this place.”

“Not normally,” Prowl replied, shifting to Sunstreaker’s other arm. “But I was taken to a meeting not too long ago.”

“A meeting with Megatron?” Sunstreaker prompted.

Prowl glanced at Sunstreaker. “Yes.”

Sunstreaker held Prowl’s gaze. “He shoved his stupid spike down my throat. What’d he do to you?"

Prowl fidgeted slightly. “He forced Shockwave to touch me, then forced myself and Jazz to perform with Red Alert,” he quietly replied as he looked away and resumed waxing.

Sunstreaker didn’t think Prowl had been abused. He’s been so sure that he lived in this place kept safe within the walls. He had no idea that he’d been used, too. That Shockwave had– “Sorry that happened to you. And Jazz, too. I’ve seen Red around enough to know he’s glitched out of his head, though.”

“I found his behavior... _disturbing_ ,” Prowl replied with an undercurrent of sadness.

“I find my _apathy_ for Megatron using my face for his pleasure disturbing. I didn’t even care when it happened.” Sunstreaker sighed. "Vortex kept me on edge all the time. Never knew what he'd do next. One second he'd tell me he liked how defiant I was, the next I'd be shoved in the torture closet as punishment for disobeying. Somehow that made what Megatron did seem like nothing really."

Prowl had stopped waxing. He was gazing at Sunstreaker, sympathy and regret overtaking his handsome features.

Sunstreaker narrowed his optics and frowned. "Don't need your pity.”

With one hand, Prowl reached up and cupped Sunstreaker's face. "I failed you. I can't apologize enough for that."

Did Prowl really think he was responsible? Sunstreaker shook his head. "You didn't put this collar on me. Rape me. Abuse me. Besides, I was fragged in the processor before we all watched Optimus die. You're not responsible for what happened to any of us."

Withdrawing his hand, Prowl dimmed his optics. “It was my job to keep you all as safe as possible. I distanced myself in order to remain cold and calculating in my strategies. It’s only now that I see how important it is to connect with those I’m protecting. I used to see it as a weakness in Optimus, but in my time here looking after even a handful of you I see how wrong I was. We are a team, a strong unit so long as we care for one another and respect each other.”

“Takes losing everything to know what’s most important,” Sunstreaker softly murmured. “Like I did with Sides.”

Prowl nodded and resumed waxing, pushing the chamois across Sunstreaker’s chest. “It’s not too late to mend things.”

“I’m better at breaking things, than fixing them,” Sunstreaker replied, sadly frowning.

Smiling a little, Prowl paused and gazed up at him. “It’s never too late to learn how to fix things. Just need to be willing to learn.”

 


	9. Three Parts - Losing Traction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker struggle to find middle ground. Skyfire is acquired by Starscream. And Jazz deals with falling into a depression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of typos... I'll correct as I spot them. 
> 
> Long chapter! Enjoy!

Part I-

 

Curled up in his berth, Sunstreaker tried to sort out his thoughts. Prowl wasn’t how he remembered him. This post-war life had really taken it’s toll on all of them. It was clear Prowl wouldn’t stop him trying to get his brother back, but Sunstreaker wasn’t sure he deserved Sideswipe’s love. His brother already had someone who cared deeply for him, so who was he to rip them apart?

The door to his room opened. He glanced over to see Smokescreen poking his head inside. “Can I recharge with you?”

Sunstreaker rolled to his back and nodded.

Smokescreen stepped inside and shut the door. He then crawled onto the berth, pressing up against Sunstreaker. “I don’t like being alone.”

“I know,” Sunstreaker quietly replied as he gently pet the middle of Smokescreen’s back.

“Why did you let Prowl wax you?” Smokescreen asked after a long quiet moment. “I would have done it. If you asked.”

Sunstreaker could hear the touch of jealousy in his voice, and knew he needed to make it clear that they were friends and nothing more. “He offered. We needed to talk,” Sunstreaker replied. “Look, Smokes. What I did the other night, asking you to ‘face, I shouldn’t have done that. I was just upset.”

Smokescreen pushed up onto his elbow and looked down at Sunstreaker. “Tell me what’s going on. It’s got to do with Sideswipe, right?”

Grimacing, Sunstreaker nodded. “He’s my fraternal twin.”

Realization washed over Smokescreen’s face, followed by a touch of disappointment. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry… Me and Sides haven’t spoken in a long time, though. He hates me for things that happened a long time ago,” Sunstreaker tried to lamely explain. “Seeing him again… it’s been really rough. I took advantage of you.”

Cupping Sunstreaker’s face, Smokescreen leaned down and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “He doesn’t hate you. And it’s pretty clear you love him.” He sadly smiled as he gazed into Sunstreaker’s optics. “I wanted to ‘face you the other night. You didn’t coerce me and you needed it. I’m happy to whenever you need me, okay?”

Slowly nodding, Sunstreaker dimmed his optics. Everyone saw him so differently than he saw himself. “Okay.”

After a small sigh, Smokescreen fingered the middle of Sunstreaker’s chest. “You two are forever linked. You’re both are gonna have to hash it out when he’s back.”

“I know. Prowl said the same thing to me, basically,” Sunstreaker replied. “I’m just scared to talk to him. How dumb is that?”

“Not dumb,” Smokescreen replied. “He’s with Prowl, so it’s complicated. I get why it’s scary. Who wants to be rejected? I can imagine it’s even worse since you’re spark bonded.”

Sunstreaker gazed at Smokescreen for a long moment. He felt terrible because he knew he was the one ‘rejecting’ Smokescreen. But what could he do? He didn’t love him. He never would. It was better he do this now rather than later. He wrapped arm around Smokescreen, giving him a little squeeze. “Tired?” he asked, trying to shift the conversation elsewhere.

Smokescreen laid back down as he nodded. Curling up against Sunstreaker’s side, he dimmed his optics. “Tired of life,” he replied.

“ _Smokes_ ,” Sunstreaker whispered, guilt filling his chest.

“Not ‘cause of you. It’s been nice having you to cling to, but I need to figure out who I am now. If that makes sense,” Smokescreen said, fingering the side of Sunstreaker’s chest.

Sunstreaker sighed. “It does.”

They weren’t altering themselves anymore to conform to someone else anymore. Here they were protected and allowed to come to terms with what they’d all endured. But this post war world was beyond broken, and there was no telling how long this safe place would remain that way. Sunstreaker felt more lost than ever.

…

Sideswipe remained still lying flat on the medical berth as Tremorwave used his tools to remove the scarring on his plating. His sensory net was offline, so at least he couldn’t feel anything. The sound of metal being scraped away made him wince, though. Tremorwave made his way up his chestplate, carefully cleaning up the surface from each jaggedly healed-over injury. He soon reached the two scars on Sideswipe’s upper chest that Prowl always kissed when they laid down together to recharge.

“Wait, can you leave those two?” Sideswipe said before Tremorwave pressed the tool down to remove them.

“Leave them? But why?” Tremorwave asked, looking confused. “Shockwave paid very well to have you looking like new.”

“Please. Those ones–” He dimmed his optics. “They’re important to me.”

Touching them with his fingertips, Tremorwave gazed at them. “Why would you want to remember what was done to you?”

“It’s more than that–” Sideswipe paused, biting his lip for a moment. “It’s about remembering what happened and why I didn’t give up already. Those two imparticular, someone important always touches them.”

Tremorwave regarded him for a moment. “Alright. But if Shockwave complains, I’m removing them.”

Sideswipe nodded.

Moving to another area, Tremorwave resumed his work. “Someone important, hm? That little Praxian seemed rather upset when they brought you in here. Would you be referring to him?”

Shrugging, Sideswipe dimmed his optics. “ _Maybe_.”

“Interesting,” Tremorwave replied. “Did you know all fraternal twins have gold colored coronas around their sparks, no matter what color the spark itself is?”

His face fell. “You… know.”

“I did some digging around in your old medical files when I saw your spark. I had to dig back pretty far, but I did find out your twin is Sunstreaker,” Tremorwave said with a side glance. “Did you know back before the war fraternal twins were coveted by noble society?”

Sideswipe raised an optic ridge, giving the medic a look of disbelief. “Really? _Why_?”

“Nobles liked to have rare attributes incorporated into their sparklines. Triad bonding was a coveted status many wanted. The only spark that leant itself to a stable triad bond, though, were those of fraternal twins,” Tremorwave explained.

Staring at the medic, he narrowed his optics. “Why are you telling me that?”

“I’m simply imparting some rare known facts about your special spark,” Tremorwave replied. “Interpret how you’d like.”

Sideswipe frowned and looked away.

How in the world could he be so selfish and want them both? He adored Prowl. He’d never been with anyone that made him feel so safe and cared for before. Being happy with Prowl should be enough for him. Right? He stared up at the dingy ceiling, knowing it wasn’t that simple no matter how much he wished it was. Because even after all that happened, seeing Sunstreaker again reminded him how much he still loved him, and he knew nothing would change that. He would always love him.  

…

Stepping off the shuttle, Sideswipe followed Shockwave inside. He was led down the corridors toward the habitation area. His spark was pulsing hard and fast the closer they got. Why did his brother have to be such a strong force in his life? He’d finally found a way to exist and even be a little happy with Prowl. Now it was being torn to shreds.

Shockwave stopped just shy of the habitation suite doorway.

Sideswipe also stopped and looked into his owner’s yellow optic. “Sir?”

“Tremorwave shared your medical files with me. I know what you and Sunstreaker are.” There was a grim tone in Shockwave’s voice. “Don’t hurt Prowl. Do you understand me?”

“I understand,” Sideswipe replied. “Prowl means the world to me.”

Shockwave nodded. “I wish he’d chosen me, but a spark’s desire is unpredictable. That said, your spark is determined to choose one mech above all, and it’s not Prowl. Find a way to make it work.” He then turned and began to walk again.

That was a tall order.

Sideswipe fell in step behind Shockwave as they walked into the habitation suite. Only Prowl, Ironhide and Ironfist were there when entered. Prowl got to his feet, while Ironhide and Ironfist remained seated at the table playing what looked like a card game.

“Welcome back, kid,” Ironhide said with a smile.

“Thanks,” Sideswipe replied.

Ironfist’s optics curved from his hidden smile as he waved. “Look how shiny you are!”

“Heh, yeah. Back to normal,” Sideswipe replied.

Prowl approached, glancing at Shockwave. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Prowl,” Shockwave replied. He started to leave, but paused at the door. “In the morning I would like you to attend an important meeting.”

Nodding, Prowl held Shockwave’s singular optic gaze. “In the Sunlight room?”

“Yes. First thing,” Shockwave replied.

Prowl nodded again. “I’ll be there.”

Once Shockwave left, Prowl was about to hug Sideswipe when he spotted the remaining two marks. White fingers touched them as their gazes met, but Prowl didn’t ask. He seemed to know, and to Sideswipe’s surprise, he leaned in and kissed each one.

Sideswipe was overwhelmed, and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Missed you,” he whispered, not caring that they weren’t alone.

“Missed you, too,” Prowl whispered back.

Smokescreen and Sunstreaker emerged from the washrack. Sideswipe’s gaze met his brother’s. Sunstreaker quickly looked away and then stalked across the lounge area and down the hall to his room.

“Welcome back,” Smokescreen said, looking back at Sideswipe after watching Sunstreaker flee.

“Thanks.” Sideswipe’s grip loosened, and Prowl reached up, cupping his face in one hand. “Go talk to him. I’ll wait for you in our room.”

Sighing, Sideswipe nodded. “Okay. I’ll try.” He leaned down and they shared an all too brief kiss, before Prowl pulled away. Sideswipe sucked in a deep breath of air before letting is slowly escape his intakes. This wasn’t going to be easy or fun, but he needed to do it.

Reluctantly letting go of Prowl, Sideswipe followed after his brother.

He approached the door, finding it already partway open, and peered inside, seeing Sunstreaker sitting on his berth obviously waiting.

“Can I come in?” Sideswipe cautiously asked.

“Yeah,” Sunstreaker replied, keeping his gaze pinned on the floor.

Sideswipe entered and sat down on the other end of the berth. “So, we should talk.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sunstreaker quietly replied.

Sideswipe glanced at his brother. He looked so defeated and so lost. Sideswipe remembered feeling like that when he arrived here. Though, for completely different reasons. “First, I’m sorry. I never meant for all this to happen. To not talk to you this long. I just thought it would be for a little while, until things felt more stable, but things never got stable. It’s not a good excuse, I know. So really am sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. For being possessive and driving you away,” Sunstreaker replied.

Silence then filled the space for a long awkward moment.

Sideswipe frowned, and sighed. “How do we make things okay again?”

“We don’t.” Sunstreaker shook his head. “There’s too much hurt for both of us.”

“I know really mending things will take time, but I still love you, Sunny. I’ll always love you. I want to make this better–”

“You love Prowl, not me,” Sunstreaker interrupted. “I see it in your face, and he told me he loves you. So don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“I _do_ mean it, you glitch,” Sideswipe replied, already annoyed. “Primus, this is part of why I left. You constantly telling me how I feel about this or that. Not like you asked me. You just assume all this slag and most of the time it’s not even true.”

“So you don’t love Prowl?” Sunstreaker asked.

“I _do_ love him. A lot. He means the world to me. He’s why I didn’t offline myself already. I still have memory feedback every night about the things Wildrider did to me. I could hang onto Prowl when I was sure there was nothing left to bother holding on for,” Sideswipe said, his admission clearly wounding Sunstreaker. He then reached over and took hold of Sunstreaker’s hand, holding it tight so he couldn’t pull away. “But I love you, too. My spark aches for you. My frame aches for you. The moment Prowl told me you were alive was the first glimmer of hope I felt when I got here. You and me, we belong together. We just do.”

Confusion colored Sunstreaker’s expression. “You can’t love us both.”

“But I do,” Sideswipe replied.

"Sides." Sunstreaker shook his head as he squeezed Sideswipe’s hand. “It doesn’t work like that.”

Sideswipe sighed, sadly frowning. He wanted it to be like that. Like how that medic said it could be, but maybe there really was too much hurt to ever get past.

Sunstreaker turned toward him, and scooted closer. He held Sideswipe’s hand in his lap, fingers grasping at it from both sides. “Are you still angry with me? For how I acted? You know before everything got all messed up between us?”

“No,” Sideswipe replied. It was the honest truth. He’d been mad, yes, but not for a long time. “Sunny, I forgave you a long time ago. I wanted to come find you, but–” He shook his head. “It had been so long and we were always stationed different places.”

“Yeah,” Sunstreaker replied with a nod. “As time passed it got harder to reach out…” He then leaned in, ghosting their lips together. “I missed you so much.” Sideswipe couldn’t resist, pressing forward and initiating their first kiss in eons. It was a kiss full of pain and loss as well as intense love. Their mouths fit together perfectly, like they were created for one another.

After the soft-mouthed kiss ended, Sideswipe gazed at his brother, feeling dazed and warm inside. His spark ached to merge, to reopen their dormant bond. To have back what he’d once had.

Lifting a hand up, Sunstreaker cupped the side of Sideswipe’s face and he sadly smiled. “That’s all I need. To be forgiven.” Sadness flickered over his face. “Now go. I’m not any good for you. I’m a mess, and you need Prowl. He gives you something I was never able to give you: _stability_. We were volatile back then, and now we’re carrying new emotional damage. I won’t let you be hurt by me anymore. You understand?” He withdrew his hand from Sideswipe’s face, and he pushed the hand he’d been holding away. “Go back to Prowl.”

“Sunny, how can you say that to me? How can you expect me to just leave you when you need someone to take of you? Let me do that. _Please_ ,” Sideswipe replied. His spark felt like it had been shattered by his brother’s words.

Shaking his head, Sunstreaker gently shoved Sideswipe’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I just needed to know you don’t hate me. That’s enough. Now get out of my room.” He shoved his shoulder even harder. “Get out. _Now._ ”

Dumbstruck, Sideswipe got to his feet, optics glassy from held back tears. “Sunny…”

“Get out!” Sunstreaker yelled.

Sideswipe spun around and bolted from his brother’s room. He ran the handful of steps to the room he shared with Prowl and slid the door open, stepping inside, then slamming it back shut with a growl.

“Sides?”

He glanced over at a very worried-looking Prowl, sitting on their berth. Tears then escaped along with a sob. His whole frame was shaking from the intensity of emotion he couldn’t quite process.

Getting to his feet, Prowl stood in front of Sideswipe. “What happened?”

“He rejected me,” Sideswipe replied, vision blurring as more tears escaped. “I just wanted to help him. Be there like you’ve been for me… But he doesn’t want that…”

Prowl pulled Sideswipe over the berth. “Sit.”

Obeying, Sideswipe sat down, wiping his face with his hands. “I don’t want it to hurt like this,” he whispered.

Draping his arms around Sideswipe’s shoulders, Prowl nuzzled his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

Turning, Sideswipe pulled Prowl to straddle his lap, and then buried his face in his lover’s neck against his collar, letting go completely and crying. He sobbed for the loss of his brother, for the guilt he felt for leaving in the first place, for the torture he’d endured at Wildrider’s hands, for everything all at once. He clung tightly to the one mech that had made things feel right again in his upside down world. Prowl was stability, just like Sunny said.

Eventually his crying began to ebb, he pulled back and looked into pretty light blue optics. “Sorry,” Sideswipe said, voice staticy.

Prowl gently wiped at his tear-soaked cheek. “No need to be sorry.”

“I love you, Prowl. I know I never told you that before, but I really do.” Sideswipe gave Prowl a squeeze.

Gaze softening, Prowl leaned forward and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, too, Sideswipe.”

Laying back on the berth, still holding tight to Prowl, Sideswipe clung to him. Prowl didn’t seem to mind, relaxing in his hold and petting the two scars left on his chestplate.

“Can I do anything?” Prowl asked after a long stretch of silence.

“You’re doing what I need right now,” Sideswipe replied, before kissing the top of his helm. “I just wish things were easier. That I wasn’t broken. That Sunny wasn’t broken. That somehow you could help heal Sunny like you’ve helped me.”

“I’ll do what I can for both of you. That’s a promise.” Prowl kissed his scars, then settled over top of Sideswipe. “Try and get some rest, though.”

“Okay,” Sideswipe quietly replied, dimming his optics.

This pain in his spark wouldn’t stop until he and Sunstreaker were together again. But at the same time he didn’t want to hurt Prowl. What the frag was he going to do? He was trapped between two mechs that he needed and loved.

 

Part II- 

The world went in and out of focus as Skyfire stood on the stage with a spotlight on him. His vision was blurred in one optic, and the world around him was hazy and thick feeling. He should care he was about to be sold. Care he’d been mutilated so he could no longer fly. But none of it could penetrate the drug induced walking coma he was in.

They’d fled the planet, he and other fliers. Gone off planet and regrouped after scattering to escape. He’d tried to lead a rebellion force against the Decepticons now ruling their home, but they were too few, too late. Taken down easily by the better equipped enemy. It had been futile, but Skyfire imagined they would have at least had honorable deaths. He had no idea this would be their ultimate fate, or else he would never have come back.

Shouting began. Swindle was talking, and mechs were yelling numbers. Skyfire watched it all like it was just a show on a vid screen. The shouting stopped when an all too familiar voice cut through the crowd of yelling. He tried to focus his one working optic, but it was useless. The drugs were too strong, and he was too damaged. He knew that voice, though. Distinct in its pitch.

“The big shuttle goes to Starscream!” Swindle said, gesturing to Skyfire.

Starscream... He’d just been sold to that meglomaniac? Good thing Skyfire was so numb. Otherwise he knew he’d fight with all he had until he offlined to get away from that Seeker he’d once considered a friend.

…

Starscream looked over his new prize, and frowned at the cuts made into Skyfire’s wings. “Definitely need to get these fixed. You won’t be any good to me if you go insane from being grounded.” He pushed Skyfire to lie back in his oversized berth, and worked to secure him with bindings to his wrists and ankle joints.

Skyfire groaned as he weakly pulled on them.

“Swindle should be ashamed, drugging his merchandise with such wretched swill.” Starscream crawled onto the berth, and draped himself over Skyfire’s chest, gazing at his handsome face.  
“Still as beautiful as I remember.”

“Master, will you like him more than me?” Red Alert asked.

Starscream glanced at his little pet sitting on the floor beside the berth and smiled. “You will each serve different purposes, little one.”

“Will you still take me with you to Megatron’s?” Red Alert asked. “Master?” he quickly tacked on.

Sliding off Skyfire, Starscream sat more properly on the berth and pat the open area next to him. “Come here.”

Red Alert scrambled to sit beside Starscream. Lightly petting the red helm, Starscream darkly smiled. “You will help me break Skyfire. I want him as obedient as you, little one.”

Red Alert nodded. His white-colored optics darting sideways for a moment to look at Skyfire.

“When I’m not here, you will give him the special energon I will leave out for you both. And I have some other activities you’ll enjoy with him once he’s been dosed with some special medicine. But he needs to detox that horrid drug from his systems first,” Starscream explained, letting his fingers trail down the slope of Red Alert’s neck and across his shoulder. “Would you like to pleasure me, little one?”

White optics brightening, Red Alert nodded. “Yes, please, master.”

Starscream grinned. Red Alert had been easy to train once he found the right combination of drugs to exploit a glitch in his processor. He knew breaking Skyfire would be much harder, but worth it in order to have a flier as a slave.

Letting his interface panel open, Starscream drew a line up the shaft of his semi-onlined spike. “Suck, little one.”

Red Alert bent forward, mouth wrapping over his spike, glossa swirling around it with practiced expertise. Starscream glanced over, seeing Skyfire watching with a frown.

“You don’t approve? I’ve trained him well. Better than most other slaves. Soon you’ll be as obedient. Observe.” Starscream pat the area next to Skyfire on the large berth. “Over here, little one and open up your cover.”

Red Alert didn’t hesitate, moving into position. He laid back with his panel retracted, ready for Starscream.

“On your front. That way Skyfire will see how much you love my spike inside you,” Starscream said, pinching Red Alert’s hip.

Red Alert scrambled to his knees, and Starscream kneeled behind him, sliding right into that lovely heated valve, nice and wet already thanks to his special drug concoction. He’d bought Red Alert because of his smaller size and his coloring which matched Starscream nicely. But he was a ground pounder. To have two matching slaves, one a flier, gave no room for doubt about his status in their new society. He couldn’t wait to show them both off in public.

Turned on by his own thoughts and the power he enjoyed wielding, Starscream thrust languidly into Red Alert’s grasping valve.

“Oh, master!” Red Alert keened, his body already trembling as he held himself back from overloading.

“No overloading until I say so, or else you’ll be punished,” Starscream replied, his spike throbbing with a building charge.

Red Alert whimpered, his hands grasping at the bedding on the berth as he shivered more.

Glancing over, Starscream noticed Skyfire shifting uncomfortably. Seeing his new prize upset was an additional turn on, and he growled a little before picking up his pace and thrusting harder and faster into Red Alert. Skyfire needed to know he’d be at Starscream’s mercy, just like Red Alert was.

“You may overload!” Starscream commanded sharply.

Red Alert’s whole frame shuddered, his valve clamping down on his spike as he whimpered and moaned. Thrusting into the tightness of his pet’s overload, Starscream reached the cusp of his own, and pushed to the hilt with loud shriek of pleasure as he climaxed. He held himself buried inside his pet, fluid pumping from his spike as he sighed his enjoyment.

He pushed a hand up Red Alert’s back. “Good little pet,” he murmured.

“You feel wonderful, master,” Red Alert replied.

“I know,” Starscream replied, withdrawing. Relishing the sight of fluid seeping from the exposed valve, he smiled then slapped Red Alert’s aft with a swift swat. “Now go clean yourself up.”

“Yes, master,” Red Alert replied, cupping his valve as he scurried off so he wouldn't leak on the berth or down his legs.

“What have you done?” Skyfire asked, his voice hoarse and staticy.

Starscream fingered his decompressed spike and smiled at Skyfire. “I’ve trained the perfect Autobot slave. Even Megatron loves to play with him.” He moved in closer to Skyfire, and leaned down staring into his bright optic and damaged dim one. “Soon you will be like him. Submissive. But unlike him, you’ll have the honor of being the one to spike me.”

“This is wrong. Why can’t you see that?” Skyfire asked.

“Subjugating inferior mechs isn’t wrong. It’s my right as the more intelligent and talented right hand to our Lord Megatron,” Starscream replied, coldness entering his voice.

Skyfire offlined his optics and turned his face away.

It would take time, but Starscream had no doubt he’d break Skyfire eventually. And it would be well worth the effort.

…

Skyfire shivered, the withdrawal symptoms taking hold of his body as the drugs he’d been on were purged from his systems.

Red Alert pushed a wet cloth over his plating, cleaning what he could reach. He seemed indifferent to Skyfire’s condition, rubbing at stains on his plating as he found them.

“Please,” Skyfire said. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for. Death maybe?

Looking up, Red Alert stared at him. “Do you need energon?”

Skyfire huffed in frustration, pulling on his bindings.

“I’ll get you some.” Red Alert disappeared from the berth room.

Skyfire rather die than become some sad, obedient slave to Starscream. Tied up, processor slowly recovering, he unfortunately wasn't unable to think clearly enough yet to formulate a decent plan. But when he was more sober, he would definitely try to figure out how to escape this mad place, even if it meant death.

Red Alert returned, and held up Skyfire’s helm with one hand, while pressing the container of rich, purple-colored energon to his lips.

“Master says you have to drink regular energon right now. So please, have it. You’ll feel better,” Red Alert said, tipping the container up.

Starved systems compelled him to swallow. With greedy gulps he drank down the wonderfully sweet energon.

“If you obey, Master Starscream will reward you with this energon,” Red Alert said, smiling a little as he pulled the empty container away and let Skyfire’s helm rest back on the berth.

“What has he done to you?” Skyfire asked, the shivers returning.

Red Alert ran his finger around the bottom of the container, coating it with the residue of energon. He then licked his fingertip slowly, optics dimming a little with enjoyment at the taste. “He gives me special energon that keeps my interface equipment warmed up and ready all times. It took time to get used to.” He then leaned down close to Skyfire’s audio. “I have to self-pleasure at least once a day to make the burning need calm enough to be able to walk. But don’t tell master. He’d be upset.”

Skyfire turned his head, looking into those white-colored optics. “Red…”

“It burns right now,” Red Alert whined as he frowned.

After setting the container on the side table, Red Alert curled up against Skyfire’s trembling, bound frame. He rubbed his hips against Skyfire’s side.

“Master won’t be back for another hour. Enough time for…” Red Alert whimpered, his interface cover snapping back. Skyfire felt a semi-online spike rub against him. “Can I? Inside you? Oh wait, I shouldn’t. Master will notice.” Red Alert rolled to his back, one hand on his spike and sinking the fingers of his other into his valve. He keened at his own touch, seemingly unashamed to be doing this right next to Skyfire. “Maybe if I’m good, master will let me spike you. I bet you feel good.” He whimpered and moaned, body arching.

Skyfire wanted to look away, but he didn’t. It was sad and disturbing to watch, but he needed to see what the drug was doing to Red Alert to learn how to mimic it if he needed to. He knew Starscream would try higher doses on him, but would first start out with a minimum amount and work his way up. If he could convincingly fake his reactions at lower levels he might avoid some of the side effects.

Red Alert gasped and shivered, his spike exploding in his hand after a few hard tugs, coating his abdomen. “My valve still aches…” he groaned, sliding four fingers inside his valve. With a pained whine, Red Alert sat up and crawled to the head of the berth, opening a small drawer in the headboard. He took out a large false spike, and bent forward on his knees beside Skyfire. Reaching between his legs, he shoved it in with a sigh. “When Master Starscream and Master Megatron use me at the same time, the ache goes away,” he murmured.

Skyfire wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or not, but the visual it conjured made him grimace.

Pumping the false spike in and out hard and fast, Red Alert whimpered and then moaned, his whole frame shuddering with another overload. Sated look on his face, he glanced at Skyfire. “Better,” he said with a small smile.

Looking away, Skyfire felt his fuel tank churn. Red Alert was a shadow of who he’d once been. Slipping off the berth, Red Alert went to the adjoining washrack. Skyfire heard the water go on, followed shortly by more moans of self-pleasuring. He dimmed his optics, spark aching at the thought of being like that. "Primus, kill me before that happens," he whispered with a sharp shudder.

…

“With the Constructicons off planet for the time being I asked around and your name came up,” Starscream said, scrutinizing Tremorwave.

“Oh?” Tremorwave seemed unphased by the pointed look.

“Thundercracker said you tend to his slave, and I trust his recommendation. Thing is, this isn’t some ground pounder, this is a _flier_. Swindle had his wing plating cut to ground him. What Swindle doesn’t know is that will eventually drive a flier insane. I need his wings back in working order,” Starscream explained. “You able to repair fliers? Being a ground pounder yourself?”

Tremorwave glanced over at Skyfire currently sitting on the couch in Starscream’s living area. He was sober now, and in need of repairs beyond his wings. For now he was behaving semi-obedient, which earned him freedom from the bindings on the berth.

“I can fix anything. I’m one of the best medics around. Let me do a cursory exam. I’ll give a list of what needs to be done,” Tremorwave replied after a moment.

Starscream crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “Have a look, then.”

Moving over, Tremorwave dropped his tool kit on the floor and opened the lid. He rifled around the messy contents until he located a scanner. He held it up and moved over various areas of Skyfire’s frame. He paused and looked into his mismatched optics. “I’ll need to see if the damage to his optic is from processor damage or not.” He then stood back at his full height, consulting his scanner. “Otherwise, he will need his wings repaired, and a full system flush. He’s not in bad shape, really. Just worse for wear after being off planet without proper fuel supplies. The stuff available on other worlds tends to be full of impurities.”

“Would you need to take him back to your little compound?” Starscream asked.

“Yes. Is that a problem?” Tremorwave asked.

Starscream regarded the medic for a moment. “Who else have you done repair work for?”

Without missing a beat, Tremorwave smiled as he rattled off an impressive list. “Soundwave, Thundercracker, Deadlock, Shockwave, Motormaster, Vortex, Octane, Astrotrain–”

“Alright, I get the picture,” Starscream interrupted as he waved a dismissive hand at the medic. “Fine. Take him with you. You have a transport, I assume?”

“I certainly do. It’ll be a bit a squeeze, but he’ll fit in the back. The repairs will take three days. I want to put him in the regen tank after I fix his wings to strengthen the repair,” Tremorwave replied.

Starscream didn’t look happy about that, but he nodded. “Three days I expect him returned to me first thing.”

“I’ll have him at your door first thing in the morning,” Tremorwave replied in a assured tone. He then pat Skyfire’s arm. “Up you go. I have a lot of work to do.”

Skyfire pushed to stand.

Walking over, Starscream pressed a pointed finger into the center of his chest. “Don’t do anything stupid while you’re with him. There’s a tracker in your collar.”

Skyfire nodded and frowned as he looked down at the floor.

…

Sitting on an exam table, Skyfire held a drying cloth wrapped around his shoulders as Tremorwave removed the wiring from his frame. Fresh out of the regen tank, his wings were fully restored. He happily stretched them behind him, enjoying the return of sensation they provided.

“So, while you were taking a dip in there, I had an interesting visitor come by,” Tremorwave said, smirking.

Skyfire looked at the medic and frowned a little.

“All I can say at this point is to hang on best you can. Obey Starscream, do not go against his wishes. There are efforts underway to remove you from his ‘care’.” Tremorwave coiled up the wiring, putting it all back in a container. “It’s not going to be easy. But do your best.”

“Who would want to do that?” Skyfire asked, his spark heavy at the thought of being trapped with Starscream again.

“I can’t say. I shouldn’t have even told you what I just did,” Tremorwave said, voice full of regret. “But I know what state he keeps Red Alert in. Do your best to not end up that way.”

Slowly nodding, Skyfire softly sighed. “How long will it be?”

“Unsure. But hopefully not too long,” Tremorwave replied.

 

Part III-

Waking, Jazz dimly lit his visor. He was held against Soundwave’s side, a position he often found himself in now when they recharged together. Soundwave had been getting more and more affectionate, which should worry him. After all, what if Soundwave wanted more? Jazz snuggled against the warmth of blue plating, feeling guilty that he knew he’d give more if asked.

Fingers fondled one of his helm horns. “Jazz is awake already?”

“Yeah,” Jazz replied, dimming his visor as he enjoyed the delicate touches to his sensitive horn.

“There is an early meeting with Shockwave and Thundercracker today. Would you like to accompany me?” Soundwave asked.

Jazz turned his face up to look into that red visor watching him. “Sure. Think Prowl’ll be there? I kinda wanna to know if he’s okay. After what happened.”

“There is a high probability,” Soundwave replied.

“Cool,” Jazz said, pushing to sit up. He stretched his arms over his head, letting his armor resettle. A blue hand ran down his back slowly and he glanced at Soundwave.

“You are very handsome,” Soundwave commented as he also sat up.

Heat flushed his face at the compliment. “I haven’t washed in like five days. I’m a filthy mess,” Jazz replied.

Soundwave canted his head. “Washing is important for health.”

“I know.” Up until recently he’d been fastidious in his taking care of his plating. But things felt different after what happened with Megatron. Maybe he was finally losing his hope. Shaking off his thoughts, he got to his feet and padded into the washrack.

Soundwave followed him, but stopped at the doorway. “Energon will be waiting on the berthside table when you finish.”

“Awesome, thanks.” Jazz stepped into the stall and turned the water on. He stood under the sprayer, letting the warm water slide over his plating. Things felt darker now to him. Knowing that Soundwave had endured the same if not worse treatment had helped strengthen his loyalty. It also made him sad. Megatron broke those around him to control them. How different would Soundwave be if not for what happened to him?

Not bothering to scrub at his plating, Jazz turned the water off and then dried himself. He wasn’t really clean, just rinsed. He honestly didn’t feel like bothering with really cleaning his plating. What was the point? He shivered, remembering how Megatron complimented his finish.

Walking back out in the berthroom, Jazz frowned at the sight of Rumble and Frenzy lounging on the berth. Soundwave was sitting in his recliner, looking over a datapad. Jazz cautiously approached the berthside table, and picked up his energon.

“Aren’t you supposed to be black and _white_?” Frenzy asked, rolling to his front and scrutinizing Jazz. “You’re more like black and _dingy_ white.” They both cackled at the joke.

Doing his best to ignore them, he drank his fuel and wandered over to sit in the other recliner across from Soundwave.

“Hey big buy, I think your Autobot needs lessons on washin’.” Rumble hopped off the berth and strolled over.

Soundwave looked at Jazz, red visor narrowing slightly. Jazz squirmed a little in the chair, not liking all this attention on him. “Shouldn’t we go? That meetin’ is soon, right?” Jazz asked, trying to deflect their focus from him.

“Yes. We should leave. Finish your fuel first,” Soundwave replied.

Jazz quickly gulped the remainder down and then he got to his feet. “Ready.”

“Rumble, Frenzy, clean up berth when finished,” Soundwave intoned.

With a look of disgust, Jazz watched Rumble run over and jump back on the berth to pin Frenzy down. Soundwave walked out, and Jazz stayed right on his heels. “Why do you let ‘em do that in your berth?”

Soundwave glanced at Jazz. “They wish to.”

Jazz had been here for months and months, and he still didn’t understand why Soundwave was so lenient with his cassettes. It often felt like the patients were running the asylum, to borrow an Earth-ism. He wondered if Soundwave would even explain if he asked. He mentally shrugged it all off as they left the apartment and stepped into the lift. At least maybe he’d get to see Prowl for a little bit.

…

“Have a seat, Soundwave. Oh, I didn’t think to bring over another seat for your Autobot,” Shockwave said as they walked in.

Sure enough, Prowl was here. He and Jazz exchanged smiles, and then Prowl scooted over in his oversized plush chair. “Jazz can sit with me,” Prowl said, looking to Shockwave for approval.

Shockwave nodded.

Jazz happily squished in next to Prowl. “Got your own seat this time?” he whispered to Prowl.

“Yeah, things have been… different,” Prowl whispered back.

Thundercracker handed a datapad to Soundwave as he sat. “Shockwave already reviewed the information.”

Soundwave took it as he sat down. His red visor focusing on the files as he opened and read them. “Skyfire is a desirable Autobot?”

“He’s a brilliant scientist, according to his Autobot and pre-war records,” Shockwave replied. “Having him here to work with Ironfist would be incredibly helpful.”

“Starscream will not sell him,” Soundwave replied.

“Are you certain there’s nothing we could offer?” Shockwave replied.

Thundercracker sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Starscream is creating his own trine with slaves. He's picked ones that match and compliment his own paint scheme. It’s about status for him, and there is nothing more important to him.”

“Are you not part of his true trine?” Shockwave gently probed.

“Officially, yes. But we never went so far as to create a triad bond. We don’t like each other enough, to be honest,” Thundercracker replied, acidic in tone.

“Acquisition of Skyfire may not be possible,” Soundwave intoned.

“What if he was stolen? Kidnapped?” Prowl offered.

Jazz glanced at his friend, a little surprised he was so openly taking part. He glanced at Shockwave, trying to read his unreadable face, but it gave nothing away.

“The collars have trackers. Even if we took him, Swindle would locate him in no time,” Thundercracker replied.

“Unless we perhaps disable the tracker?” Shockwave said after a moment.

“Removing a collar on a living Autobot sends an alert to Swindle,” Soundwave replied.

The ‘living Autobot’ part of his master’s statement made Jazz’s plating crawl. How many of them had died? How many more will die? It was something he tried very hard not to think about.

“I’m not suggesting we remove it. There must be a way to disable the tracker. If we had a collar to examine, I'm sure Ironfist would be able to figure it out,” Shockwave replied.

“At the energon refinery, I’m sure we could procure one from a deactivated Autobot,” Thundercracker said, clearly not happy with the notion.

“I have one you may use,” Soundwave said. Everyone looked at him, and Jazz had to bite back the urge to ask him why the slag he had something like that.

“May I ask, how you came by it?” Shockwave asked.

Soundwave folded his hands in his lap, giving the smallest of side-glances to Jazz. “During a _meeting_ with Megatron and Starscream, they deactivated an Autobot. I took the collar before having his body melted down.”

The room grew so quiet that only the sound of their vents circulating air could be heard.

“Who was it?” Prowl asked, shattering the awkward silence.

“Designation: Inferno,” Soundwave replied.

Jazz felt sick. He stared at the floor, his fuel suddenly no longer settled in his tank. Prowl took hold of his hand and they laced their fingers together.

“If you could bring it to me, I will have Ironfist examine it. See if there is way to disable the tracking sensor,” Shockwave said. “I think this is the best avenue to explore.”

“I agree,” Thundercracker replied.

Soundwave nodded, then looked at Jazz. Unable to look his master in the face, he pinned his focus on the floor.

“Would you like some time to visit?” Shockwave asked, looking at Prowl.

“Yes, I would.” Prowl squeezed Jazz’s hand.

“Ten minutes,” Soundwave intoned, setting the timer as he always did for Jazz’s interactions.

They both stood, and Prowl guided Jazz out of the large room and down the hall to a smaller one. Once inside, they hugged one another tightly. Jazz’s hope was disappearing. He’d held on it all this time, but now… It was becoming almost impossible.

“Are you alright?” Prowl quietly asked, not letting go.

“Sure. You?” Jazz asked.

“Things here have gotten messy,” Prowl replied.

Jazz pulled back from the hug. He stared into his friend’s face, seeing how tired he looked up close. “Not rechargin’?”

“Was up late last evening. As it turns out, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are fraternal twins,” Prowl replied. “Needless to say, it’s been tense since Sunstreaker’s arrival.”

“I had no idea they were… wow.” Jazz shook his head. “So you and Sides…?”

Prowl sighed. “I’d resigned myself to losing Sideswipe once I learned of the truth. But, now I don’t know. Sideswipe doesn’t want to let go of either of us.”

“Maybe you need a trine,” Jazz said, half-joking.

Light blue optics brightened as Prowl gazed at Jazz. “I know you’re kidding, but I’m seriously considering it. If for no other reason than to keep peace between them.”

“Do what you need to, but don’t force yourself into something that’ll make you unhappy,” Jazz replied.

Prowl nodded. He then ran his white fingers over Jazz’s chest. “You’ve stopped cleaning yourself?”

Embarrassed, Jazz chuckled and rubbed the back of his helm. “I dunno. Seems pretty pointless to me right now.”

Concern flickered over Prowl’s face. “Jazz, are you really okay? After what happened?”

“Yeah, course I am,” Jazz replied, making his voice pitch cheerfully. “I was worried ‘bout how you were, actually.”

“I’m coping. Having the issues with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have sort of sidelined my other concerns,” Prowl said with a small shrug of his doorwings.

Jazz sadly smiled. “And what ‘bout Shockwave? He’s not bein’ all handsy anymore I noticed.”

“He’s been extremely respectful toward me. Kept me apprised of information. He’s trying to make up for what happened, I think,” Prowl replied.

“That good?” Jazz asked.

“Yes. It’s been helping me move forward. I need purpose, and he’s been giving me that,” Prowl replied.

“Good,” Jazz said, pulling Prowl into another hug.

The intercom came on with a light buzz. “Please return to the Sunlight room,” Shockwave’s voice ordered.

Jazz’s mood immediately fell, but he did his best to cover with a bright smile as he let go of Prowl. “Guess I need to head back.”

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” Prowl asked, concern once again flickering over his face.

“Totally good,” Jazz replied with a giant, fake grin.

…

Normally Jazz didn’t feel annoyed with Soundwave but right now he was standing on Jazz’s last shredded nerves. Brusk blue hands scrubbed at his plating like he was some little drone pet that needed tending to.

Finally losing his temper, Jazz whirled around and grabbed the brush from Soundwave’s grasp. He threw it with force across the stall. “What the frag! If I want to be dirty, what does it matter?”

Soundwave looked surprised by his outburst. “Buildup of grime is unhealthy. It can permeate into joints, causing degradation.”

“Heh, right. I think the minute Megatron got his nasty hands on me I was degraded plenty,” Jazz spat back.

“Jazz is still upset?” Soundwave asked, managing to sound confused despite his monotone.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” Jazz said, shaking his head. “I thought I was okay, but I guess not.”

“If you wish to not clean, that is acceptable,” Soundwave said, trying to placate him.

Jazz snorted and began to laugh as it suddenly hit him. Soundwave treated him the same way he did his cassettes, letting him do what he wanted as long as he was happy. But Jazz wasn’t happy. Not by a long shot.

“Is something humorous?” Soundwave asked.

“You. Well, no, _me_. I’m just like your cassettes, aren’t I? You let me do what I want within reason, and you accommodate me. Enable me as much you can while I’m wearin’ this thing, anyway,” he replied tugging at his collar. “You watched ‘em kill one of my friends. You disposed of him like he was scrap metal. Always doin’ what is asked of you, right? Never facin’ up to your part in anything. Never standin’ up for what you want.”

Soundwave’s visor dimmed.

“What do you want?” Jazz asked, his anger hot and sharp.

“Jazz…”

“What?” Jazz snapped.

“I want Jazz,” Soundwave replied.

Jazz’s face fell at that. Did Soundwave know what his statement implied? “I don’t get what that means.”

Soundwave took a tentative step closer, and let his mask retract. Surprised, Jazz stared at his lower face, specifically at his lips as they parted to speak. “I regret letting you be hurt.”

Jazz stared into Soundwave’s visor, his ire fading. “You didn’t have a choice ‘bout what happened to me.”

“If it’s preferable, your residence could be moved to Thundercracker’s apartment,” Soundwave said after a moment.

Jazz frowned. “You’d give me up? Just give me away to be locked up with them?”

“Life here is stressful. I try to provide you with as much as possible, but you remain unhappy. With Bluestreak, you would happy, correct?” Soundwave asked.

“Don’t you dare send me away,” Jazz replied, fervently shaking his head. “I like my life here with you. I like the freedom I have when I’m with you.”

Closing what little space was left between them, Soundwave leaned in and pressed a kiss to Jazz’s forehelm. He then let his blue fingers stray down over Jazz’s neck, pausing at the collar before moving down over his chest. “No resentment toward me for what happened?”

“Not at all,” Jazz replied, guiltily enjoying the intimate touches.

Soundwave gently trailed his fingers down Jazz's abdomen. “I want you at my side. ” His mouth twisted as if he wasn’t sure he should keep talking. “In my berth. In my arms. Close to me. With me.”

“You’ve got feelin’s for me? Like genuine attraction? Thought you despised interfacin’ and that stuff,” Jazz asked, arousal prickling over his plating wherever Soundwave’s hand dared to wander.

Looking downward, Soundwave deeply frowned. “With everyone else, yes.” He glanced back up, red visor focusing on Jazz.

“But not with me?” Jazz asked.

“Not with you,” Soundwave confirmed.

Jazz tipped his head up and crashed their lips together. Desire flared inside his spark and his interface array all at once. Soundwave froze at first, hands stilling on each side of Jazz’s abdomen. Mouthing those never-before-seen lips, Soundwave soon melted into the kiss, returning it as he slid an arm around Jazz’s waist, pulling their bodies flush. Parting his lips, Jazz pulled Soundwave’s open then slid his glossa into the tempting heat. Soundwave moaned in response, a sound Jazz had never heard him make before.

A part of him was screaming to stop. Blue would be hurt. He’d declared his love for him only days ago, and here he was ruining it already. But he couldn’t stop himself. ‘Facing Blue had helped him cope, but this felt different. It felt liberating. Maybe he was just an expert at self-sabotage. Who knew why he felt compelled to give in, but he did.

The kiss broke with a gasp from each of them.

Soundwave’s visor was darker. “Proceed?”

“Primus, yes,” Jazz replied, arms wrapping around Soundwave’s neck.

Soundwave’s powerful arms wrapped around him, and lifted him up. Jazz clung to him, burying his face against his neck as he was carted into the berthroom. Soundwave set him back on pedes beside the berth, and Jazz let himself fall back onto the surface. Soundwave was over him a moment later, mouth kissing down his frame. “You are beautiful, even when unclean,” Soundwave intoned as he kissed down Jazz’s chest.

Jazz laughed at that. “‘Face me senseless and I’ll wash up proper after. Promise.”

Soundwave smiled at that. It was a sight that Jazz found captivating. He never imagined Soundwave having a mouth, let alone smiling with it.

Resuming his ministrations, Soundwave cupped Jazz's heated cover. Grinning, Jazz let it snap open. To his pleasant surprise, Soundwave didn't recoil. Jazz figured there was still a chance he'd change his mind once interface equipment made an appearance.

Blue fingers rubbed the rim of his valve then sank in. Jazz keened, his entire frame heating from the touch.

Seemingly satisfied after probing his valve for a few moments, Soundwave pulled them free. He then moved back over top of Jazz, their lips meeting in another heated kiss, which in the midst of the unmistakable sensation of a spike split his attention.

With glossae entwined between their linked mouths, Soundwave rolled his hips, impaling Jazz. The kiss broke as Jazz cried out, hands digging into Soundwave's sides.

Stilling, Soundwave looked worried. "Does it hurt?"

"Nah," Jazz replied. He hadn't expected the girth that had spread his valve open wide. "Hold there for a sec, need to adjust is all."

Soundwave nodded, then began to press little kisses all over Jazz's face.

Smiling at the affection, Jazz lifted his legs up, wrapping them around Soundwave's lower back. Lifting his head, Soundwave glanced down the side of their bodies. "You are flexible."

"Frag yeah, I am," Jazz replied. "I should be fine, just start slow. 'Kay?"

Gazing at Jazz, Soundwave smiled again then nodded. He rocked slowly, his spike only shifting a little inside him at first. Primus, it felt incredible. Jazz moaned his approval and squeezed with legs for encouragement. "I'm good," Jazz breathed.

The thrusts then went from shallow to long and deep. The build up charge in his array felt wonderful. Jazz squeezed his valve around the spike filing him, earning him soft moans. His whole frame shivered, completely at Soundwave's mercy. He was gentle with Jazz, despite his larger size. It wasn't the feral, insatiable sort of interfacing he shared with Blue, though. This was a deliberate buildup of charge in his array that was making his processor spin with pleasure.

"So close," Jazz whined.

Soundwave mouthed his throat above the collar, picking up his pace.

Shuddering, Jazz cried out. Overload slammed his systems like a freighter. It was intense enough to white out his vision as is took hold. After a long, intense moment it started his ebb and his vision returned. That's when he heard Soundwave groan and felt that spike push deep, unleashing liquid heat. "Frag," Jazz whispered, shivering at the sensation.

Soundwave fought not to collapse over Jazz, managing to land only partially over him, but still linked by their arrays. Jazz let his legs slide down, and panted as his body tried to cool itself down.

"Satisfactory?" Soundwave asked after a few moments, turning his head to look at Jazz.

"Slag yeah. Better than good. Think you practically melted my struts," Jazz replied.

Soundwave weakly pushed up onto an arm so he could lean in and kiss Jazz.

"Now that was a show worth watching!" Rumble said from the doorway.

"Who knew dingy the Autobrat could be so hot?" Frenzy replied with a cackle.

Soundwave awkwardly tried to get up, nearly losing his balance as he got off the berth. "Out!"

"Aww, come on big guy!" Rumble whined.

Jazz pushed up onto his elbows only then noticing Ravage sitting in the hallway peering in, too.

"Out! Now!" Soundwave ordered as he waved at them to scatter.

"We're going!" Frenzy said, sprinting out of the room with Rumble behind him.

Room free of cassettes, Soundwave shut the door and locked it. He stumbled back to the berth and sat down heavily. "My apologies."

Jazz rolled to his side, fingering Soundwave's hip. "I've watched them 'face on my berth. It's no big deal to me. If anything, it's a little like payback."

Taking hold of Jazz's hand, Soundwave lifted it to his lips and kissed the backs of his fingers. "Regrets?"

"'Bout you? This? No," Jazz replied honestly. About the things he's said to Blue, _yes_. He didn't want to think about that right now, though. "Curl up with me?"

"Anything you desire," Soundwave replied.

They settled in together on the berth. Jazz sank into the strong arms that held him close. Was this wrong? Was he selfish? Had he done this to make sure Soundwave wouldn't send him away? Were these real feelings of affection he felt for Soundwave? Pressing his face into the shoulder his head was resting on he offlined his optics and visor. He could face the fallout tomorrow. Right now he just wanted to recharge and enjoy how safe and cared for he felt.


	10. Criss-Crossing Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz faces up to what he did, Bluestreak struggles to cope, and Mirage finally finds a small piece of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed. I'll check it later... Have some snow storm ficcage!

Upper body pressed against Soundwave's broad chest, legs spread over blue hips and that spike impaling him over and over, Jazz keened and shivered. Soundwave pistoned his hips from where he lay on his back, driving them both toward overload. He dug his fingers into dark blue plating, enjoying the pleasure buzzing in his array. Interfacing with Soundwave was so intense, it always left Jazz’s processor swimming and his spark pulsing so hard he was sure it might escape his chest.

He suddenly shuddered, unable to control his body as he overloaded with a sharp cry. Why did this feel so cathartic? Why was it so intense every time? Clinging tightly to Soundwave, he rode out the amazing pleasure that flooded his entire being all at once.

Soundwave’s grasp on him tightened and he grunted, then moaned lowly, also overloading. The electrical charge of fluid sent an aftershock of pleasure zinging through Jazz and he whimpered. They then both sagged as it passed, while their cooling fans worked hard.

Basking in the lovely euphoria overload brought, Jazz lazily mouthed and kissed along Soundwave’s jawline.

Blue fingers gently brushed over the side of Jazz’s face. What he found most fascinating about Soundwave was how incredibly gentle he was. For such a large mech who was so brutal in battle, he was unexpectedly affectionate and sweet in the berth.

“You are to spend time with Bluestreak today,” Soundwave commented. “Will you continue–” Soundwave paused, obviously looking for an appropriate word.

“‘Facing him? Nah. I don’t think so,” Jazz replied with a sad smile. He then curled a little in on himself, guilt pushing his moment of pleasure aside.

“Complication was not my intention,” Soundwave said.

Jazz shifted, lifting off the decompressed spike, and then pushed up onto an arm to look down into Soundwave’s half-exposed face. “I’m the one that made this all complicated. I’ll be straight with Blue later and tell ‘im.”

Soundwave frowned. “He will be upset. I–”

Jazz leaned down and kissed Soundwave sweetly. “Stop worryin’. You didn’t do anything wrong. This is different for me, being with you I mean. Never felt so addicted to being ‘round someone before.”

“Addicted?” Soundwave asked, fingers gently tracing down his cheek.

Jazz nodded. “Definitely addicted to how you make me feel. Could lay in this berth all day long, interfacin’ until my valve is sore and I’d still want more.”

Soundwave smiled a little. “Duties and obligations intervene.”

“They sure do.” Chuckling, Jazz kissed Soundwave’s cheek.

“Should clean up. You’re appointed time with Bluestreak is soon,” Soundwave said. Despite his monotone, there was a note of disappointment in his voice.

What was Jazz doing? This couldn’t be _love_ , right? He honestly didn’t know. The only thing he was sure of was the fact that being with Soundwave helped him feel better. Maybe that was just what needed right now?

…

Bluestreak grinned when Jazz appeared in the doorway and hopped to his feet from the couch. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hey, Blue.” Jazz stopped short, just out of arms-length, and Bluestreak could see something was wrong.

He canted his head. “Okay. What is it?”

Jazz frowned, which was rare for him. “I, uh, I gotta tell you somethin’.”

Doorwings lowering, Bluestreak grew very still. It was bad news. Someone they knew was dead, maybe?

Jazz’s frown deepened. “You know how I was weird last time I was here? All upset?”

“Yeah. You said you loved me,” Bluestreak quietly replied, his worry quickly shifting now that it was clear this was about them. About their relationship. Had Bluestreak unwittingly done something wrong? Was Soundwave going to stop letting Jazz visit? His mind ran a million light years a minute with terrible scenarios...

“I did. Thing is, you mean a lot to me.” Jazz’s posture seem to sink as he spoke.

Bluestreak’s spark felt like it was twisting in his chest with each carefully chosen word. He just wanted to know what was going on.

“More than anyone has in a long ti–”

“Just spit it out. Stop trying to sweet-coat things,” Bluestreak interrupted.

“I’ve been interfacin’ with Soundwave,” Jazz admitted, grimacing.

“You _what?_ ” Bluestreak was stunned. He stared at Jazz with bright optics. “I thought he, that he, you know, _hated_ it?”

“He trusts me,” Jazz replied with a shrug. “And it just kinda happened a couple days ago.”

“Wow.” Bluestreak’s doorwings lowered and he walked back over to the couch and sat down dazed by such an unexpected revelation.

“I’m so sorry, Blue,” Jazz said.

“Guess you don’t really love me, then?” Bluestreak asked with a sad frown.

Jazz sat down on the opposite couch. “Maybe I can’t love. Maybe I sabotaged you and me because I’ve never been close to someone before. Maybe I’m just a fraggin’ aft. I dunno. Been trying to figure it out. I don’t have any sort of good answer. ‘Cept maybe the aft one.”

Bluestreak sighed. Part of him wondered about that confession. Jazz had acted so oddly that evening. He’d never told Bluestreak what happened, either. Looking at Jazz now, he could see he was still messed up from the mysterious event in question.

“Tell me what happened to you, why you were being so weird last time you were here,” he asked. Jazz looked almost stricken at the request, but Bluestreak needed to know. “Please.”

Folding his hands in his lap, Jazz focused on the floor in front of him. “I, um, was taken to a meetin’ with Megatron. Prowl and Red were there, too, with their owners. After the boring stuff was discussed Megatron had us all pile into another room, and he, ah, he made me, Prowl and Red do stuff.”

“Stuff?” Bluestreak dimmed his optics as dread curled inside his chest. “Megatron violated you all?”

“Not exactly. Though, he did use my mouth for a ‘facing hole at one point,” Jazz replied, sounding so broken. “Then he made me and Prowl both, um, ‘face Red. In front of everyone.”

“There was more than just Megatron there?” Bluestreak asked, his dread morphing into outrage.

“Sounders, Shockwave, Screamer, Megs, and us. We had to perform for them, basically,” Jazz explained.

Mouth gaped in shock, Bluestreak crossed over to Jazz and sat down next to him, tugging him into a hug. He felt Jazz’s frame quivering slightly, and nuzzled his helm. “I’m so sorry…”

Returning the hug, Jazz held fast to Bluestreak. “It’s why Sounders is how he is. Megs used to do this to his own officers. Prolly still does,” he said after a moment.

Bluestreak stilled, suddenly understanding what Jazz apparently hadn’t. “Oh, Jazz.” He leaned back and gazed at him while gently brushing his fingers down the perimeter of his face. “You’re healing each other.”

“What?” Jazz looked confused.

Bluestreak pressed their forehelms together. “You and Soundwave. You’ve experienced the same thing. It’s why things changed between you two.”

If this had never happened to Jazz, Bluestreak knew he would still be his. It sort of stung to know that, but he also had a gut feeling about the confession of love not being fully genuine at the time. What sucked slag most, though, was that Bluestreak really did want a life with him, despite how foolish it was to hope for in the first place.

“Never set out to hurt you, Blue,” Jazz said in a hushed voice.

“I know that.” Blue kissed the tip of his nose. “You’re not like that.”

Jazz hugged himself to Bluestreak again. Unresisting, Bluestreak happily held him while wishing he could somehow magically heal him. Jazz didn’t deserve this, none of them did. Bluestreak was suddenly grateful for the guilded cage he and Mirage lived in here, knowing it kept them safer than most.

…

It wasn’t as if Bluestreak expected a happy ending for him and Jazz, but he’d still secretly hoped. Now he was loverless. _It had just been a luxury_ , he tried to tell himself. He’d been alone plenty in his life, so why should he care if he was now? Besides, he wasn’t _alone_ alone. He lived here with Mirage and Thundercracker. Though, he didn’t feel like he fit in with them.

“Blue?”

Turning his attention to Mirage curled up next to him in the berth, Bluestreak forced a smile as he looked at the dimly lit face of his roommate. It was late, and all the lights were off. Only the glow of their optics illuminated their berthroom. “Yeah?”

“You were quiet all evening, and now you’re still awake. It’s not like you.” Mirage’s face was pinched with worry. “Did something happen between you and Jazz?”

Bluestreak let his faked smile fade. “Yeah. Our whatever-it-was thing is over. We’re just friends now.”

“Did you fight?” Mirage asked.

“No, nothing like that. I just– I lost him to Soundwave,” Bluestreak said with a shrug.

Mirage’s concerned look intensified. “Is Soundwave forcing him? I thought he was on our side?”

“Not forcing him. They need each other right now is all. Some stuff happened, and they sorta bonded over it,” Bluestreak explained.

Frowning, Mirage sighed. “I’m sorry, Blue. I know he made you happy.”

Looking away, tears threatened to escape. Bluestreak didn’t want it to hurt, but it did. “It’s fine,” he said, voice skipping a little.

Sliding his arm around Bluestreak, Mirage pressed close and hugged him.  “It’s okay to cry. I certainly won’t judge you for it.”

“I know it was stupid to think nothing would change,” Bluestreak said, tears escaping down his cheeks. “But I thought me and Jazz would stay together, you know?”

Mirage nodded against his shoulder. “It’s a loss, Blue. It’s okay to mourn it.”

Bluestreak let go and finally started to sob in response. His spark ached as pain escaped in a stream of tears he couldn’t control. Mirage remained quiet, holding him close and nuzzling his helm. He found immense comfort in Mirage’s presence. It could be worse. He could be completely alone. When he was coherent tomorrow, he wanted to be sure he told Mirage that. How much he appreciated him. Right now, he needed to let himself hurt and ‘mourn’ the loss of his lover.

…

Something was amiss. Thundercracker quietly watched from the doorway as Mirage sat with Bluestreak in their drawing room area. He’d never known Mirage to play console type games, but he’d spent most of the morning with Bluestreak playing a racing game. A part of him was jealous, there was no doubt about that. He enjoyed his time with Mirage even if it was mostly on friendly terms. So watching him choose Bluestreak’s company did eat at him a little bit. He suspected there was a good reason, though.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Thundercracker finally said to gain their attention.

Bluestreak paused the game and they both looked over at him.

“Yes?” Mirage asked.

“I have to leave the apartment for several hours. Is there anything either of you need while I’m out?” Thundercracker asked.

“I think we’re fine,” Mirage replied before glancing at Bluestreak.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Bluestreak confirmed.

Thundercracker noticed Bluestreak’s doorwings lower as he spoke. In Vosian wing language, that usually indicated sadness or distress. He frowned, wondering if Praxians were similar with their doorwing gestures. “Alright then. I’ll be back later.”

They both nodded their goodbyes to him.

He then reluctantly turned and left them to play their video game. While he hadn’t connected with Bluestreak the same way he had with Mirage, that didn’t mean he didn’t care about his well-being; mental as well as physical. He’d need to keep a close optic on him.

He stepped out on the balcony and took off, heading for a meeting at the energon refinement plant. Starscream had insisted he and Skywarp come along for a tour of the facility and to assess their reserves in person. Being told the production was doing well only went so far when it came to Megatron. He only trusted his top officers to report the truth to him and therefore Starscream was often deployed to confirm reports.

Arriving first, as usual, Thundercracker decided to check in on the work force. The minibots or undesirable Autobots were the ones forced to work in the facility. He walked inside and stood on the catwalk above the machinery and workers below.

Vortex was on the floor, shouting orders at the laborers. Thundercracker deeply frowned at the sight of that poor excuse for a mech as he herded several minibots toward the raw energon holding tanks.

Scanning over the Autobots below, he noticed one wedged behind a large tank. His bright yellow paint stood out against the dark grey and brown of his surroundings. Thundercracker flew down to investigate. The Autobots that saw him land scattered, and he approached the unmoving yellow form.

“Frag,” he whispered. Kneeling down, he gently turned the dirtied face up so he could confirm who it was. “Bumblebee,” he whispered. Both his helm horns were broken off, his faceplates cracked and covered in grime.

“He tried to lead a rebellion,” said a voice from behind.

Thundercracker glanced over his shoulder at a soot-covered minibot he recognized as Huffer.

“Vortex beat him up and left him there. We’ve all been giving him parts of our rations, but we can’t fix him and he hasn’t onlined in days now,” Huffer said, making sure he kept his distance.

“Keep him covered. I saw his color from above. Starscream will be here for a tour soon,” Thundercracker stood back up. “If he sees him, he will be deactivated.”

“So the rumor’s true?” Huffer asked, backing up and glancing nervously over his shoulder for a moment.

“Rumor?” Thundercracker asked.

“Heard some of you guys want to free us,” Huffer whispered.

Thundercracker frowned. “Heard from whom?”

“Just around,” Huffer vaguely replied.

“Cover him up,” Thundercracker replied, flicking his wings and frowning. He needed to maintain the illusion of being loyal to Megatron. That meant not letting on he was sympathetic. “I want him for myself. I’ll be back later for him. Understood?”

Huffer quickly nodded his head and scurried off. He returned moments later with a dark brown tarp, which he carefully laid over top of Bumblebee.

“Now back to work, vermin,” Thundercracker snapped.

Posture sagging, Huffer ran off.

Dying in such a slow, agonizing way on the refinery floor as an example to the others was unacceptable. At the very least, he’d like to take Bumblebee someplace to die with dignity if he was truly unsalvageable.

The unmistakable voice of his air commander made Thundercracker wince. He glanced up seeing Starscream and Skywarp on the catwalk.

“Vortex! Brawl! Where the frag are you two?” Starscream yelled.

Thundercracker took off, flying up to his trinemates and gracefully landing beside them.

“‘Sup, TC?” Skywarp said already looking bored.

“The workers are in deplorable condition,” Thundercracker said, stating a truth but also covering for why he was on the floor.

“So?” Skywarp asked, looking confused. “Hey, you missed an awesome auction the other night. Screamer snagged that shuttle Skyfire.”

Tensing, Thundercracker nodded.

“For Pit’s sake, where are those two aftwipes?” Starscream snarled.

“Vortex was here when I arrived, but he disappeared toward the raw energon holds when I flew down,” Thundercracker replied.

Starscream glanced at Thundercracker and smirked. “Probably embarrassed to have to see us after his poor _performance_.”

“So, Screamer, what’s the plan for your new slave? You gonna keep your other one?” Skywarp asked.

“Don’t call me that,” Starscream replied with a hiss. “I’m keeping both. They complement my paint scheme and match one another.”

“I had that one, but they’re too much work to take of,” Skywarp replied. “No big deal, though. Divebomb’s club provides a nice choice of slaves to play with whenever I get the itch.”

While it was a relief to know Skywarp hadn’t bought any more slaves just as Thundercracker told him not to, it was also disturbing to know that some Autobots were being exploited as public pleasure mechs to be used by anyone who had credits to spend.

“You’re so lazy, Skywarp,” Starscream replied with clear impatience.  

“You’re early!” Brawl said as he appeared on the catwalk. “Welcome to Cybertron’s one and only energon refinery, Commander Starscream.”

Starscream flicked his wings. “Let’s get this meeting over with. I have more pressing issues to tend to, and stench of his place is making me ill.”

Brawl was clearly unhappy with Starscream’s attitude. “I have all the information ready for you to take back to our Lord Megatron,” he said, clearly biting back the urge to growl as he spoke.

“That’s all well and good, but we want to see the reserve tanks and raw energon stockpiles with our own optics,” Starscream replied with annoyed undertone to his voice.

“As you wish,” Brawl replied as he clenched his hands into fists.

Primus, was there anyone Starscream didn’t rub the wrong way? It was a wonder Thundercracker hadn’t punched his trine leader in the face long ago.

...

“He’s in bad shape,” Tremorwave said, fingers gently moving over Bumblebee’s plating. “I mean, I’ve seen some pretty fragged up mechs. Sunstreaker was a disaster when he came in here the first time. Mirage, too. But this?” The medic shook his head. “I really don’t know.”

“His spark is still pulsing,” Thundercracker pointed out.

“Yeah but if he's been unresponsive for days, his processor may not even be functioning anymore.” Tremorwave replied with a frown. “I’ll do what I can, but no promises.”

Thundercracker nodded. “Thank you.” He took out a handful of credit sticks, setting them on the computer console.

“No need to pay upfront,” Tremorwave said as he began to pry dirtied pieces of plating off the prone form on the berth. “Not even sure he’ll make it.”

Thundercracker left the credits anyway. “Comm. me when you have anything to report. I have another meeting to attend.”

Tremorwave glanced up and raised an optic ridge. “Meeting at the compound?”

“Yes,” Thundercracker replied.

Turning back to his task, Tremorwave paused to lightly touch the spark chamber cover. “Still pulsing hard.” He then sadly smiled. “The resilience of our species never fails to impress me.”

“There’s only so much suffering any mech can endure before breaking, however,” Thundercracker replied.

“Ah, but those who suffer and don’t break are stronger and more formidable than imaginable,” Tremorwave said, looking up at Thundercracker from under the rim of his helm.

Thundercracker held the medic’s gaze. “Very true.”

…

Carrying Bumblebee in his arms, Thundercracker walked into Mirage and Bluestreak's area of the apartment. Being a minibot, Bumblebee hadn't needed as much time in the regen tank, and Tremorwave fixed up as much as was possible for the moment. The rest of the healing was up to Bumblebee and his auto repair system. Until he regained consciousness, the medic wouldn't be able assess the full extent of damages.

Mirage and Bluestreak were sitting cuddled close, both reading something on a datapad. They'd been inseparable for a few days now. Thundercracker did his best to hide his envy, but it was hard. He missed his time with Mirage.

"Is that Bee?" Bluestreak stared with bright optics at the bundle in Thundercracker's arms.

"Yes," he replied.

"Primus," Mirage said, worry flickering over his noble features.

Bluestreak got to his feet, and peered at Bumblebee's offlined face. "His horns are broken."

Mirage carefully set the datapad aside and got up, joining them.

"Tremorwave is unsure how much processor damage there is. Until he regains consciousness there's no way to know," Thundercracker replied.

"That's why he didn't bother with cosmetic repairs?" Mirage asked, focusing on his broken horns.

Thundercracker sadly sighed. "Yes. He needs caring for in the meantime, including energon directly put into his tank at regular intervals."

"I'll do it. I'll take care of him," Bluestreak replied.

"We both will," Mirage added, lightly touching Bumblebee's arm.

Moving toward one of the couches, Thundercracker was about to deposit the minibot when Mirage blocked his way.

"The berth is more appropriate," Mirage said, gesturing to the other room.

"Of course," Thundercracker replied, altering his path. It was starting to feel like he'd lost what little progress he'd made with Mirage, which was disheartening.

In the berth room, he deposited his yellow bundle. Bluestreak wasted no time arranging Bumblebee into a comfortable position.

"You have a fuel tube?" Bluestreak asked.

Pulling a fueling tube and a small box from his subspace, Thundercracker held the items out for Bluestreak. "These are additives to enrich his energon and help aid healing," he explained.

Nodding, Bluestreak took the items.

Mirage got on the berth and sat beside Bumblebee, fingers moving over the broken horns. "Where did you find him?"

Thundercracker's wings lowered. "At the refinery. He tried to lead a rebellion and was made an example of."

"That's horrible," Bluestreak replied, his doorwings lowering in a mirrored gesture.

Mirage looked up at Thundercracker, a touch of warmth coloring his sad smile. "You rescued him."

Holding the gaze, Thundercracker nodded. His spark pulsing faster at the direct attention Mirage gave him. Primus, why did he have to develop feelings for this mech? It wasn't his intention to fall for him, but he definitely had. As much as he wanted so much more, Mirage remained aloof.

"If there's anything either of you need, let me know," Thundercracker said before making his way to leave.

"As soon as he wakes up, we'll let you know," Bluestreak replied.

Tremorwave made it sound like Bumblebee may not recover or regain consciousness when he'd picked him up earlier, but Thundercracker didn't want to be cruel and tell them that. Best they have hope.

...

Mirage smiled at the sight of Bluestreak curled up next to Bumblebee as he silently slipped off the berth. It was the most at peace he’d seen his friend in days now. Losing Jazz had been hard on the young Praxian, more so than Bluestreak probably realized. Mirage had been happy to be a close companion for him to distract him from his pain, but that had been at the cost of spending time with Thundercracker.

With Bumblebee here to care for, it would give Bluestreak some purpose. It also gave Mirage a little more freedom again, which he was going to take advantage of now.

Silently padding through the opulent apartment, Mirage made his way to Thundercracker’s room. He lightly rapped his knuckles on the door, then waited. The rest of the apartment was dark save a light here and there, which meant the seeker was most likely here. After a long moment, the door slid open.

“Mirage,” Thundercracker looked both surprised and pleased. “Did you need something?”

“Just some time with you, if you’re agreeable to that,” Mirage replied.

A warm smile graced Thundercracker’s handsome features and he nodded, stepping aside to let Mirage in.

“My apologies,” Mirage said once inside with the door closed.

“For?” Thundercracker asked as he walked over to the table near the window where an abandoned board game they’d been playing was still set up.

Mirage joined him, sitting opposite of Thundercracker and gazing at the board, trying to remember where they’d left off. “Spending all my time with Bluestreak over the last few days.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” Thundercracker replied. He picked up a tile and placed it on the board, clearly remembering better whose turn it was.

Fingering one of his blue tiles, Mirage considered placement on the board. “He’s been distraught over the ending of his relationship with Jazz. Leaving him alone just wasn’t an option.” He set his tile down and looked up at Thundercracker.

“I wasn’t informed their relationship ceased. Soundwave made no changes to the schedule,” Thundercracker said, looking concerned.

“They are still friends. Having a visitor is important to Blue,” Mirage replied, surprised at how little Thundercracker seemed to know. Surely Soundwave would mention he was now interfacing with his Autobot, wouldn’t he?

Frowning, Thundercracker shook his head. “What brought on all this? _If_ you don’t mind sharing.”

He really didn’t know... “Soundwave and Jazz have been engaging in a physical relationship. Pardon my saying, but that seems like a tidbit of information that would have been shared.”

Thundercracker huffed as his frown deepened. “Soundwave is very private. I didn’t know that had transpired.” Then sadness flickered over his face. “Bluestreak, he’s alright?”

“He will be.” Mirage canted his head. “Your timing with Bumblebee was perfect. It gives Blue someone to care for and focus on.”

Leaning back in his seat, Thundercracker rubbed his forehelm. “And now I feel cruel.”

“Why?” Mirage asked, concern flaring.

“Tremorwave isn’t sure Bumblebee will wake again. He was left mostly fuel deprived, and untended in his beaten condition for so long that Tremor believes his processor might be too damaged to ever recover,” Thundercracker said with dimmed optics. “I couldn’t let him die like that in the refinery, though. I wanted his death to be comfortable if he was truly unrepairable.”

Mirage softly sighed in response. “Best to not tell Blue that.”

“Agreed,” Thundercracker replied, picking up one of his tiles and placing it on the board.

Thundercracker had shown immense compassion, which made him all the more attractive. Over time, the nightmares and memory feedback of his time with Skywarp had faded. They never went away fully and seeing just Thundercracker’s silhouette would still sometimes startle him, but it didn’t stop his attraction from budding and growing for this mech.

Getting to his feet, Mirage rounded the table, and slid onto Thundercracker’s lap.

“Mirage...” Thundercracker looked unsure, his hands grasping the sides of the seat.

Reaching up, Mirage cupped his face in his hands and leaned in to ghost their lips together. “It’s okay,” Mirage tried to reassure him.

“I don’t want to accidentally trigger any bad memories,” Thundercracker whispered.

“I wouldn’t be sitting here if that was the case,” Mirage replied before initiating a kiss.

It was gentle and tentative at first, but all the passion they obviously shared for one another soon took over. Their lips parted and glossae tangled, leaving Mirage’s spark pulsing fast and hard. A large dark hand lifted and slowly moved down the slope of Mirage’s neck, over his collar and across his shoulder. Breaking the kiss with a gasp, Mirage gazed into crimson optics focused on him.

“That was unexpected,” Thundercracker murmured.

Mirage smiled a little. “I need to move slowly, but that doesn’t mean I lack all desire.”

Nuzzling the vents in Mirage’s helm, Thundercracker hummed. “You’re so beautiful.”

“As are you, my handsome flier,” Mirage replied. He grasped the hand that had stilled on his shoulder, and guided it down his frame. For the first time in what felt like forever, his body was heating to touch.

Thundercracker turned his attention to Mirage’s hands moving his over his chest and down the nose cone that ended at his lower abdomen. “Are you sure this is alright?” he asked, clearly worried he was crossing a line that maybe he shouldn’t.

“I haven’t been touched with any sort of affection in a _very_ long time,” Mirage replied, looking at Thundercracker. “I’m not saying I’m ready to fully interface, but my array is burning to be touched. I’d rather it be you than me, but I can certainly self-service if you prefer.” He leaned in close to one of his audios. “In your lap, of course,” he added in a heated whisper.

He felt Thundercracker’s plating heat wherever it pressed against his own and smiled at the reaction. To embarrass this usually stoic mech tickled him to no end. He then opened his cover, revealing his semi-onlined spike. Thundercracker’s vents actually hitched at the sight. The flier then lightly drew a finger down his spike, following the blue decorative line and watching it jerk slightly from being touched.

“My valve will be a little less messy,” Mirage said, gently pushing the large hand lower.

Thundercracker’s other arm wrapped around his waist, holding him firmly against his chest. His fingers then wandered lower, gently circling the rim of Mirage’s valve.

Mirage spread his legs a little wider and softly whimpered. He’d never indulged in recreational interfacing once he’d joined the Autobots, and after Skywarp’s treatment the gentle touches to his valve were enough to practically melt him in Thundercracker’s lap.

After teasing the rim, Thundercracker gently slid his large finger inside, stroking the lubricated mesh walls and setting off the internal sensory nodes. Mirage moaned and grasped at the seeker’s chest. “Primus,” he whispered.

Thundercracker very quietly chuckled, then continued. His finger was soon joined by a second one, which had Mirage writhing and whimpering in his lap. It felt amazing, heat and pleasure filling his array for the first time in so long. He kissed along Thundercracker’s shoulder and up his neck, pausing to whine his enjoyment now and again. The pace of those talented fingers picked up and Mirage lost himself in the heady pleasure, shivering as he felt the twinges of overload flicker at the edges.

“More,” Mirage whimpered, rocking his body to try and push himself over the edge faster.

Thundercracker added a third finger, curling them inside his valve as pumped them in and out.

Mirage’s own fingers dug into Thundercracker’s chest in response and after a moment he cried out sharply as climax claimed him. Shuddering, he overloaded for the first time in probably eons. It felt more intense and wonderful than he remembered, too. Arching against the larger frame, he rode it out until it sadly ebbed away, and then sagged against Thundercracker, floating on the temporary high overload offered.

He happily hummed his satisfaction and kissed the edge of Thundercracker’s jaw. “That was pure bliss.”

Thundercracker kissed the top of his helm in return. “You’re stunning when you overload.”

Mirage smiled at that. “I wonder how you’ll look?”

“Me?” Thundercracker asked, withdrawing his fingers.

Taking hold of the hand, Mirage delicately licked each digit clean. He could feel Thundercracker’s plating heating even more as he watched. Mirage made sure to cast a seductive look in his would-be lover’s direction. “You don’t think I’d demand to be pleasured then leave you all revved up, do you? That wouldn’t be fair.”

Thundercracker smiled a little. “I never want you to feel obliged to me, though.”

“Mutual desire isn’t obligation,” Mirage replied. He then trailed his fingers down Thundercracker’s body, pausing to draw a circle over the closed panel. “I have wondered what lies beneath for a while now.”

Thundercracker cupped Mirage’s face, pulling him into a loving, soft-mouthed kiss. “I’m all yours for the taking or exploring.” His panel then snapped open, and Mirage’s fingers were met with an onlined spike.

Glancing down at the large, gunmetal grey spike, Mirage traced the dark blue line that went from the tip down the shaft. “Beautiful,” he said.

“We match,” Thundercracker replied, amused they both sported blue stripes on their spikes.

“So we do,” Mirage replied with a smile.

He then gracefully slid off Thundercracker’s lap, and settled down between his legs. He’d been trained how to properly pleasure a potential bondmate, and wasted no time putting his noble life lessons to work. Swirling his glossa slowly around the head, he gazed up at Thundercracker. The seeker grabbed his thighs tightly with each hand and shivered in response. Encouraged, Mirage laved around the shaft, curling his glossa around it until he reached the base, then repeated the motion going back up. Thundercracker groaned and his wings lowered into a relaxed position against his back.

Mirage smiled before suckling the head of the spike, earning him a soft grunt. He then slid his mouth down around it, taking in the entire length, despite it’s pushing on his intake. Training he’d had so long ago instantly kicked in and his intake spiraled wider to accommodate it all without his making a single gagging sound.  

He then felt fingers gently stroke down the tiny vents along his helm. It felt nice, and he dimmed his optics before setting to work on the spike before him. He moved smoothly, careful of his dentia as bobbed his head over the spike. Thankfully this was not an activity Skywarp demanded of him, and he was able to enjoy the moans he drew from Thundercracker without any unpleasant memories cropping up on him. Instead, he was reminded of the golden age, and his time as a Towers mech, practicing his technique on a specialized instructor. It reminded him of better times.

“Oh, Primus,” Thundercracker said, his spike throbbing hotly in Mirage’s mouth.

Not even a moment later, Thundercracker grunted and moaned all at once, fluid rushed forth from his overload. Mirage was just as graceful as ever, swallowing the thick fluid down and still teasing the shaft with his glossa at the same time to draw out every last drop.

Finished, Thundercracker leaned back in his seat, lightly panting as he pet Mirage’s head. Licking his lips clean, Mirage carefully got to his feet and curled up in Thundercracker’s lap again. Large arms hugged him tightly, and Thundercracker nuzzled his helm.

“You were intended to be sent away to be bonded for family alliances?” Thundercracker quietly asked.

“I was,” Mirage confirmed, optics dim as he enjoyed the closeness of a mech he’d come to admire and care deeply for. “What gave it away?”

“I know that technique,” Thundercracker replied. “I was also to be given away.”

Mirage turned his head to look up into crimson optics and smiled. “We match in many ways, don’t we?”

“That we do,” Thundercracker replied, looking happier than Mirage had ever seen him before. In fact, _he_ felt more at peace than he had in eons. It would take time to fully heal, he had no illusions about that, but having made it this far with Thundercracker gave him hope. Maybe it was selfish in the face of everything else going on with Bluestreak and Bumblebee, but Mirage desperately needed this small corner of happiness right now.


	11. Despair and Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What really happens behind closed doors in Starscream's apartment isn't quite what Skyfire expected, but it's not exactly pleasant either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There maybe grammar/issues... Just another snow posting in a rush. I'll fix as I catch them.

Holding on was easier said than done. Skyfire frowned as he sat silently beside Red Alert in the living area of Starscream’s large apartment. Red Alert was fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable from the charge that was lingering in his array thanks to special drugs Starscream had him on. Skyfire wanted to fight, or run, or both. Instead he behaved obediently, praying at some point the promise of rescue would come true.

Starscream filled a medical syringe and then walked over to Skyfire. “Let’s see if this is a proper dose, hm?”

Wincing, Skyfire didn’t move, letting Starscream press the syringe to his neck and squeezing the handle to inject the contents directly into his fuel line.

“Unfortunately, I do have to see Megatron for a _hopefully_ short meeting.” Starscream gazed at Skyfire with hungry optics. “The dose will take time to become fully effective. If I’m waylaid, Little Red will be happy to relieve any needs you have.” He then glanced at Red Alert and gently cupped his face. “He’s yours to look after.”

“May I, um, _pleasure_ him, master?” Red Alert asked, fingers grasping hard at the couch.

“Yes you may if he’s primed,” Starscream replied with a dark smile, gently petting Red Alert’s cheek with his thumb. “You two will look lovely together, I have no doubt.”

“Thank you, master,” Red Alert said, eager to please Starscream.

Starscream glanced back at Skyfire. “I’m pleased with how amicable you’ve been. In no time you’ll become accustomed to life here.”

Skyfire didn’t have it in him to pretend he was looking forward to a life here and shifted his gaze down to the floor with a deep frown.

“Don’t be so dour. We have a lovely time here, don’t we little one? I give you all you need, and I make sure you’re healthy and maintained.” Starscream straightened his posture then flicked his wings as he set the syringe back on a nearby table. “Well, I don’t want to be late. Be good my pets.” He spun on his heels and left the apartment, strutting out the door.

The door locked behind him, and Red Alert picked up the remote to the vid screen. He put on an old drama show, still fidgeting as he watched. Skyfire leaned back against the couch with a sigh, despair taking over. He felt helpless and trapped, which by all rights he was. Why hang onto some vague hope that medic offered? For all Skyfire knew, it could have been a cruel joke on the strange medic’s part.

Dimming his optics, Skyfire started feel woozy and he felt a stir in his interface equipment. He’d hoped to be on a lower dose, but it seemed Starscream had calculated for his size and it was already affecting him.

“You okay?” Red Alert asked, glancing at Skyfire.

“Not really,” Skyfire answered honestly.

“We can do anything you want,” Red Alert offered. “Just like master said, I’ll do whatever you need, too.”

Skyfire frowned. “Why do you look up to him like that? Starscream abuses you. How does it not bother you?”

Red Alert’s white optics dimmed and he looked away. “He protects me. Gives me fuel. Keeps my frame in good shape. As long as I do as he asks, I never get beaten here. Though, Lord Megatron does sometimes hurt me…” He fingered the edge of the couch. “Even when I get injured, master always has me repaired right away.”

Skyfire sadly frowned. “And that’s why you’re so loyal to him?”

With a mirthless laugh, Red Alert shook his head. “I’m not loyal to master. I'm keeping an important promise to stay alive. After watching them torture and kill–” he cut himself off with a pained expression, which was quickly covered for by a forced smile. “I know what it looks like, being a drugged up frag toy, but I made a promise to him. And I intend to keep it.”

“Him?” Skyfire asked, trying to puzzle out what Red Alert wasn’t saying. Was that how they broke Red Alert? By killing someone he cared for?

Pressing a hand over Skyfire’s now heated interface cover for a moment, Red Alert made a ‘tsk’ sound. “It’s already working.” He then got up and walked toward the berthroom.  

That one touch made Skyfire's entire array light up with an intense desire for release. Skyfire rubbed the cover, embarrassed at how revved up he already was.

“You coming?” Red Alert asked, peering at Skyfire from the berthroom door. “No point fighting it.”

Stumbling to his feet, Skyfire followed Red Alert, his burning need driving him forward. Red Alert took his large hand and guided him to the berth.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Skyfire commented as he laid back.

“I’ve had master and Lord Megatron inside me at the same time.” Red Alert settled between his legs, rubbing both hands over the hot, closed cover. “I can take a lot. Plus, you’re nice. You won’t smack me.” Red Alert leaned down, swirling his glossa over the cover.

Unable to hold onto his control, the cover snapped back. Red Alert licked up the shaft of his onlined spike. “So pretty. Yours is really nice. I can see why master would like it.” Red Alert smiled and crawled up, his own array cover snapping back. In a smooth motion, he sat down over top of Skyfire’s spike, moaning as he did. “ _Very_ nice…”

Red Alert’s valve was so hot and slick, Skyfire couldn’t help but groan at how wonderful it felt.

“I feel good, too?” Red Alert asked.

“Yes,” Skyfire replied, faceplates heating with embarrassment. He didn’t want to do this, but his array had complete control of him.

Red Alert placed both hands on Skyfire’s abdomen for balance. “If you fight it, that burn will start to hurt. And it won’t feel good anymore.” He then gyrated his hips with Skyfire buried inside.

It felt incredible, and Skyfire rolled his helm back, moaning more. “Red… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Red Alert replied as he rocked over top of Skyfire, ‘facing himself on his very erect spike that Skyfire had zero control over now. “This is so much better than doing it by myself.”

Sadness wound its way around Skyfire's spark. What sort of sad, lonely life had Red Alert lived before now? Who was this 'him' he’d made his promise to? And Primus, why did Starscream have to dose him with this vile compound?

Hands grasping as Red Alert's hips, Skyfire met the smaller mech’s movements, sinking to the hilt. Red Alert’s hands balled up and he whimpered. Unsure if that was a good or bad sound he’d made, Skyfire drew on every ounce of self control he could to still himself.

“Too hard?” he asked, body shivering with a desperate need to continue.

Red Alert’s whited optics dimmed as he nodded. “You’re large…”

Skyfire knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself, so he grabbed Red Alert by the aft, lifting him off his spike. “I don’t want to hurt you, so you spike me, okay?”

Dimmed optics suddenly flared brightly. “Really?”

The burning sensation stole his usual coherency and he nodded fervently in reply. “Please…”

Shifting himself, Red Alert laid over Skyfire and rolled his hips. His spike easily slid into his already slicked valve. Red Alert wasn’t really large enough to fill Skyfire, but his spike was more than enough to stroke the sensitive hidden nodes and send a wave of pleasure rushing through him. All he wanted at this point was to overload so he could think more clearly again. He grasped Red Alert around his middle, and let his legs fall wide open. “ _More_ ,” he begged the smaller mech.

“Of course. Whatever you want,” Red Alert replied, sounding thrilled to be allowed to spike him.

Rocking with his whole body, Red Alert thrust hard and fast into Skyfire’s valve. Heat prickled over the surface of Skyfire’s plating, and the buildup of charge in his array was so strong he was actually shivering. “So close already,” he whined.

“You feel so good,” Red Alert replied, fingers digging into his chest as he thrust even faster.

Skyfire didn’t last much longer, maybe a minute or two. With a sharp gasp, he suddenly overloaded hard. His valve tightened and spasmed around the spike buried in it, and even his own spike, which had been smooshed up against Red Alert’s abdomen, discharged fluid. His interface array was no longer his to control and he let the rush of unwanted pleasure flow through it.

Red Alert continued to pound into him, overloading a few moments later with a high-pitched cry as he shuddered. The flood of fluid tingled as it filled his valve, drawing another small spasm of pleasure from Skyfire’s array.

Sinking down over Skyfire, Red Alert actually looked sated. He was lightly panting, and his optics were dimmed.

Most of the discomfort caused by the drug thankfully abated with his climax. Skyfire sighed with relief, and absently pet Red Alert’s back. The smaller mech eventually wriggled free of his valve and moved to snuggle up against Skyfire’s chest, tucking his helm under just under Skyfire’s chin. Holding Red Alert close, Skyfire felt conflicted. Being here was horrible, but being a companion for Red Alert gave him a sense of purpose.

“I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?” Skyfire asked after a long comfortable silence.

“You stopped before you damaged anything,” Red Alert replied. “I need to be stretched out next time, though. Then you can do that.”

Skyfire grimaced. “No. I don’t want that. From now on, you’ll spike me if this comes up. Agreed?”

Red Alert pressed closer and nodded.

Even if there was no rescue in his future, he couldn’t help but feel a deep desire to care for Red Alert. Being alone here with Starscream must have been hard. At least now they had eachother. He gently hugged the smaller mech curled up against him. “We’ll look out for one another.”

“You remind me so much of him,” Red Alert said after a moment. “It hurts. But, a good hurt. I haven’t let myself think about–” He curled in tighter on himself in Skyfire’s arms. “–any of it in a long while.”

“Who are you talking about?” Skyfire quietly asked.

“Inferno,” Red Alert whispered. “He was my bondmate. Was my everything. Now there’s a hole in my spark.”

Skyfire’s optics dimmed, and he reached up to pet Red Alert’s helm. Surviving a bond broken by death was difficult in the best circumstances. Most bondmates passed away within months of one another. Red Alert had been holding on to life because he’d been asked to, but how awful a life to be trapped in.

“I’m so, so sorry, Red,” Skyfire replied. “You aren’t alone here now.”

Red Alert pressed a kiss to Skyfire’s jaw. “Thank you. You know, for letting me tell you.”

“Of course,” Skyfire replied.

What a sad world this was. But at the very least, they had each other now.

…

Skyfire was woken by Red Alert gently shaking him. When had he dozed off? He lit his optics just in time to see Starscream step into the berthroom.

Red Alert pushed up onto his elbows. “Welcome home, master.”

Starscream half-smiled. “I didn’t intend to be so long. Did you care for Skyfire in my absence, little one?”

“Yes, master,” Red Alert replied.

There were scuffs all over Starscream’s plating, but especially on his thighs. He also looked tired, his optics dimmed and wings sagged behind him. “Come, both of you. I need to be cleaned up and by the looks of it, so do each of you.”

Red Alert quickly slipped off the berth and was at Starscream’s side. Skyfire was slower to react, sitting up and wincing at a sudden influx of pain in his processor. Both his hands shot up to squeeze his helm.

“Head rush of pain just now?” Starscream asked.

Skyfire nodded, holding his helm in his hands.

“Perhaps I need to adjust the dosage,” Starscream said with a frown. “When it ebbs, join us in the washrack.” He then strutted back out with Red Alert obediently following behind him.

It took a few moments for Skyfire’s processor to stop the intense throbbing and calm to more of a dull ache. This was an unexpected side effect. With a sigh, he swung his legs off the berth and slowly stood. He stretched his wings, and rubbed his still aching helm. Making his way to the washrack, he paused in the stall entrance, watching Red Alert push a cloth over Starscream to buff out the scuffs on his plating. Personal frag toy _and_ attendant.

“A nasty processor ache is a possible side effect of what I gave you. I’ll lower the dose next time,” Starscream said with a small shrug of his wings. He then narrowed his optics as he looked Skyfire up and down. “You’re a mess. Get in here and clean yourself up,” he said pointing to the floor under the sprayer.

Frowning, Skyfire stepped into the stall where Starscream motioned. He reached for a cloth to wipe with, but to his confusion and surprise, Starscream snatched it before he could and began to wipe him down under the flow of water. Red Alert continued to work on Starscream’s plating as Starscream washed Skyfire’s.

“I can do it,” Skyfire said, unsure what to make of the scene.

“No need,” Starscream replied, seemingly content to wipe away the evidence of his coupling with Red Alert.

If Skyfire didn’t know any better, he’d swear Starscream was treating them like trinemates.

“Master?” Red Alert prompted after a moment.

“Yes, little one?” Starscream replied, pushing on Skyfire’s hip to turn him around so he could scrub down his back and wings.

“Should I remove some of the small dents?” Red Alert asked.

“Not right now. I’m far too exhausted,” Starscream replied.

After he was done cleaning Skyfire, Starscream turned his attention and cloth to Red Alert, quickly wiping him down as Skyfire rinsed off under the sprayer. Once he was done, he gave a little aft-pat to Red Alert to move under and rinse off as well.

This definitely felt like trine behavior.

Skyfire stepped out of range of the sprayer, and picked up a drying cloth. He didn’t dry himself, though. He waited for Red Alert to finish, then wrapped it around him when he came closer, patting the smaller mech dry. Starscream watched the interaction with keen interest before rinsing himself. Once he finished, he turned off the water, and Red Alert quickly grabbed another drying cloth, offering it to Starscream.

Taking it, Starscream glanced at Skyfire. “Don’t be such dolt, dry yourself off, too.”

Skyfire did as he was told, grabbing another cloth to dry with.

All clean, Starscream led them both back into the berthroom. As per what had become usual, Starscream nestled himself in the middle and Skyfire and Red Alert laid down one either side of him. Stretching his frame against Skyfire, Starscream turned to his side and sighed with a look of contentment as he rested his helm on Skyfire’s shoulder. Red Alert curled up in a ball against Starscream’s back just below his wings.

“Lights off,” Starscream said, waving a hand in the air. The lights in the room dimmed then went out.

Skyfire’s head still hurt, making it hard to relax enough to escape into recharge. He silently watched crimson optics flicker off and felt Starscream slip into a recharge quickly. Over the edge of Starscream’s hip, Skyfire could see the dim light of Red Alert’s optics still on. His spark ached for him. Knowing he’d lost a bondmate put such a different spin on his behavior. He wished he could hold Red again, comfort him like earlier. That desire would remain unfulfilled until Starscream left them alone again, though.

…

Slowly sipping his discolored fuel, Skyfire frowned at the taste of it. He glanced at Red Alert’s serving, seeing it was the same slightly bluish tint as his, instead of the usual purple color of a mid-grade. He swirled the contents in the glass and considered not finishing it.

“If you don’t drink it, he’ll inject you again,” Red Alert whispered.

“And what difference does it make?” Skyfire quietly replied, his despair returning in full force.

“I stopped having processor aches when I started to drink my dose instead of being injected with it,” Red Alert replied before gulping down the remainder in his glass.

That was reason enough for Skyfire. He really didn’t want another painful headache if it was avoidable. He slowly finished his serving, looking across the living area at Starscream. Their master was at his computer console, furiously typing away, wings twitching behind him. Something had him riled up, and Skyfire wasn’t sure if he should be worried or not about it.

After he finally finished his energon, Red Alert took both their glasses and walked over the kitchen area to rinse them clean.

Skyfire grimaced, his fuel tank churning thanks to the the drugged liquid. Red Alert sadly frowned as he looked back at Skyfire, then returned to sit beside him.

“Lean against the couch back,” Red Alert instructed.

Doing so, Skyfire put an uncomfortable amount of pressure on his wings, but endured it, trusting Red now.

Red Alert’s fingers sought out seams in Skyfire’s plating over the area of his fuel tank, and applied varying pressure. It relieved some of the discomfort by disrupting the sensory net nodes near the surface. He dimmed his optics and smiled a little.

“Thank you,” Skyfire said, feeling a strong fondness for his smaller companion.

Red Alert flashed a small smile in reply.

In his peripheral, he saw Starscream had paused his typing to watch them interacting. After a moment, their master got to his feet and wandered closer. He pet Red Alert’s helm as he gazed at Skyfire. “Not feeling well?” Starscream asked.

“My fuel tank is a bit queasy,” Skyfire replied.

“It happens from the special energon sometimes, master,” Red Alert added.

“Does it upset your tank, little one?” Starscream asked.

“At first it did, but then I got used to it,” Red Alert replied.

Starscream nodded, and let his fingers trail over Red Alert’s helm, fingering his horns. Red Alert leaned into the touches, his optics dimming a little.

“You look after him, little one. When I’m done writing my report, we’ll spend some quality time together,” Starscream said with a definite purr to his voice. He then strut back over to his computer console to pick up where he left off.

Skyfire’s mood quickly tanked at that. He couldn’t pretend to enjoy being here. Thankfully, Starscream didn’t seem to mind how melancholy he was. After a few minutes the churning stopped and Skyfire felt the drug taking effect. He gently pushed away Red Alert’s hands, and sat back up. It took all his self control not to wrap both arms around the smaller mech and hug him close. Were the drugs fostering these affectionate feelings he wondered? He couldn’t be sure.

Unable to resist the urge, Skyfire eventually reached out and trailed his fingers down Red Alert’s face.

Red Alert smiled a little, and his optics dimmed at the touch.

“I wasn’t expecting you to become so attached to him, Skyfire,” Starscream commented from his seat at the console.

Skyfire’s hand fell back into his lap, and he could see the disappointment on Red Alert’s face. He shifted his gaze to the floor and dimmed his optics, wishing once again for death. It would be better than this. In fact, suffering fuel deprivation in space was better than this.

“Master, may I take Skyfire into the berthroom?” Red Alert asked.

Starscream regarded the two of them for a long moment. “And do what, little one?”

Red Alert fidgeted a little. “Um, wait for you to be done.”

Chuckling, Starscream nodded. “While you wait, try and warm him up for me. I would like to partake in my spoils.”

That comment made Skyfire feel sick, but for entirely different reason.

Red Alert wasted no time as he got to his feet and grabbed Skyfire’s hand. “Thank you, master.”

Heaving himself to stand, Skyfire followed Red Alert into the berthroom. Red Alert hugged himself to Skyfire the moment they were out of Starscream’s view. Returning the hug, Skyfire sadly smiled and gently rubbed the middle of Red Alert’s back.

“Don’t let him see you touch me like that again,” Red Alert whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Skyfire replied in a hushed voice.

“He’ll get jealous,” Red Alert replied, gazing up at Skyfire.

Skyfire nodded.

“My array is burning,” Red Alert said, frowning. “Could you make it stop... please?”

Leaning down, Skyfire initiated a soft-mouthed kiss, which made Red shiver in his arms. “Of course.”

He could see the conflict in Red Alert’s expression at the affectionate kiss, but it quickly passed.

Skyfire was then tugged over to the berth, and he sat down, propping himself up against the headboard. He patted his lap, and Red Alert sat down sideways. Spreading his legs, the cover snapped back and Red looked up imploringly at him. “ _Please._ ”

Skyfire gently rubbed his fingers over the exposed valve, earning him a whimper. He then sank one of his larger fingers into the slick, heated space between the smaller mech’s parted legs. He pumped it in and out slowly, causing Red to shiver. “More,” he whined.

Obliging the request, Skyfire added another finger. He soon had a whimpering, wet mess of a mech in his lap. Red turned his upper body toward Skyfire, smaller fingers clinging at his chest as his whole frame trembled. After a few moments more, Red Alert pressed his face into Skyfire’s plating and keened as he shuddered hard. His valve clamped down on Skyfire’s fingers, and he stilled with his them buried inside, letting Red overload.

After the climax passed, Red Alert relaxed. “Thank you,” he said in a dazed voice, nuzzling Skyfire's chest.

Skyfire chuckled at little, removing his fingers. “Least I can do.”

Red Alert grabbed his hand and laved his glossa over his slicked fingers, cleaning them carefully. Peering up at him, Red Alert smiled a little. “Let me help you, too?”

There was no denying heat had pooled in his interface array, especially after watching Red Alert lick his fingers like that. He felt guilty asking for assistance with his drug induced arousal, though.

“Some other time, little one. It’s my turn to play with our newest member,” Starscream said from the doorway.

Disappointed his moment alone with Red Alert was already over, Skyfire frowned.

Starscream crossed the room and crawled up onto the berth. Red Alert scrambled off Skyfire's lap, and then hopped down to the floor, kneeling at the side of the berth.

Blue hands moved over Skyfire's chest slowly, but he couldn't bring himself to look at Starscream. Instead he looked to the side, catching sight of Red Alert's sad expression. Heat rippled over his plating when Starscream rubbed between his legs, distracting him.

“Warmed up indeed. Good job, little one,” Starscream said. “Let me have a good look at what I bought. Open up.”

Skyfire obeyed, more out of need than want. His cover opened, revealing his onlined spike, and uncomfortably wet valve. Starscream fingered his spike with an approving hum, then dipped his fingers into Skyfire’s valve.

“As much as I’d love to sink into that velvety heat, I’m more in the mood for riding this lovely spike of yours,” Starscream said, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing.

Skyfire’s optics dimmed, and he couldn’t help but moan from how good it felt.

“You’re mine now, you understand? Your desire belongs to me. I let you and little Red play, but in the end both your bodies are mine to have when I want.” Starscream leaned in close, turning Skyfire’s face by the chin with his free hand so he had no choice but to look his master in the optics. “Is that perfectly clear?”

“Yes,” Skyfire replied, with an edge of a groan seeping into his reply.

“Good.” Starscream’s interface cover snapped back, and he let go of Skyfire’s spike, staring hungrily at it. “Lean back.”

Doing as he we told, Skyfire’s spike ached to be inside the tight heat of a valve, any valve, even Starscream’s. This drug was maddening. It robbed Skyfire of all clear thought, and all he could feel was unrelenting desire. How Red Alert dealt with it day in and day out amazed him.

Starscream moved to straddle Skyfire’s hips, and then carefully lined himself up with the head of his spike nudging just inside the rim. “I control the pace until I say you can take over.”

Skyfire knew an order when he heard one and nodded. Primus, he just wanted Starscream to get on with it.

Sinking down with a satisfied moan, Starscream wriggled his hips to take in as much of Skyfire’s larger spike as he could. Grabbing hold of Skyfire’s shoulders, Starscream used them as leverage to lift and sink over top of his spike.

Moaning, Skyfire let his fingers trail over the insides of Starscream’s wings, earning him a whine and a lustful look. “Little one, get up here and touch Skyfire’s wings for me. Firm touches and kisses.”

Red Alert got back onto the berth and began to run his hands over the smooth span of Skyfire’s wings, adding another delightful layer of sensory input. He groaned and his whole body rippled with heat.

Starscream gasped as he bounced faster in his lap. “That’s perfect, little one. His spike is so hard now.” Starscream threw his head back, riding his spike and moaning wantonly.

A haze of arousal enveloped Skyfire whole. All he could process was how amazing that tight heat felt wrapped around his spike combined with the stimulation to his wing. He just wanted to overload, so he could clear his mind of all this unrelenting desire.

Swatting at Red Alert, Starscream grumbled. “Move over!”

Red Alert moved to the edge of the berth. Starscream cupped Skyfire’s face in his hands as he sat down over his spike and gyrated his hips. “Now finish us both off,” he ordered, optics a deep shade of crimson.

“Anyway I want?” Skyfire asked, hands sliding under Starscream’s aft.

“Yes! Just overload me already!” Starscream said impatiently.

Skyfire lifted Starscream up, and got to his knees, then laid Starscream back on the berth all without disconnecting his spike from the valve it was buried inside. He then covered the seeker with his larger frame and began to pound hard and fast into him, desperate for release.

Starscream clutched at Skyfire, his moans mixing with shrieks. “Harder! Rip me open!”

In the back of his mind, Skyfire wondered what kind of violent interfacing Starscream enjoyed with Megatron. Begging to be ‘faced harder when Skyfire was sure he was already at Starscream’s limits like this couldn’t be a good sign. His lust filled processor pushed those thoughts aside, though. He just needed to−

Suddenly Starscream’s valve clamped down around him, and he screamed while digging his fingers into Skyfire’s plating as he overloaded. “Fill me!”

Skyfire roared as his body shuddered with his own overload in response. Liquid heat pumped from his spike into the spasming valve wrapped around him, finally giving him his moment of release.

Starscream shivered and whined. “Worth every credit...”

Skyfire panted as the tension drained from his frame. It was such a relief to no longer feel that uncomfortable burning need in his array. He was about to lift off Starscream, but was held in place by fingers that latched onto his sides.

“Stay right there,” Starscream said, licking his lips.

Obeying, Skyfire stole a side glance at Red Alert who was still sitting at the edge of the berth, having watched the whole thing.

“You think Megatron would enjoy a show like this, little one?” Starscream asked as he squeezed his valve around Skyfire’s decompressing spike, causing Skyfire to gasp.

“Yes, master. He would very much enjoy it,” Red Alert replied.

“The stretch of your spike is quite wonderful,” Starscream commented. “You may move now and Red Alert shall tend to cleaning me up.”

Skyfire pulled out with a soft hiss, and sat beside Starscream still feeling dazed. Was it just post overload that had his processor still in a fog? Or the drugs?

Red Alert opened a drawer in the headboard, and took out a cloth. He moved between Starscream’s legs and began to carefully wipe away the seeping fluid from his valve.

Skyfire frowned. “I can do that,” he offered.

“No,” Starscream replied firmly before locking gazes with Red Alert. “Would you like to taste, little one?”

“Of course, master,” Red Alert replied. He leaned down and began to lick at the fluid escaping Starscream’s valve.

Faceplates heating, Skyfire wasn’t sure what bothered him more about what he was being forced to witness; that Red Alert had to taste his overload in such a lewd way, or that it was turning him on to watch.

“Very good, little one,” Starscream crooned. “My perfect slaves. Each of you servicing my needs in ways my trine could never dream of.”

Glancing at Starscream, Skyfire frowned. So they _were_ a substitute for a trine. He just hoped that meant in arrangement only. With any luck Starscream was either already spark bound to his official trine or perhaps didn’t believe in spark-bonding at all. That was the last thing Skyfire wanted; to be forced into a bond with this mentally deranged seeker.  


	12. Salvation Incoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Shockwave's compound hope is slowly being restored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a plotty chapter...

Standing in the middle of the lab, Prowl quietly watched his team working together. Well, mostly. Sideswipe was still casting longing looks at Sunstreaker who was now expertly ignoring him. This had been going on for days now and Prowl knew something needed to be done.

The door to the lab opened and Shockwave entered with a small container in hand.

Prowl immediately walked over. “Stopping by to inspect the progress?”

“I’m here to bring you, well, Ironfist this.” Shockwave carefully handed over the container to Prowl. “I would assume this might be a sensitive issue, so I’ll let you decide when and how to present the item inside to Ironfist,” he said in a hushed voice. “But the sooner our brilliant in house scientist can assess the tracker the better.”

“Inferno’s…” Prowl trailed off, dimming his optics and holding the container to his chest. “Thank you. As soon as it’s appropriate, I will present it to Ironfist.”

“How are things here? Is some of the strife I know you’ve faced with the new mechs calming now?” Shockwave asked, still speaking at a low enough tone that only Prowl would hear.

Nodding, Prowl shrugged his doorwings. “They’re stable, but I’m working on a solution to the issue. I hope to address it later this evening.”

Shockwave reached up to place his hand on Prowl’s shoulder, but withdrew it when Prowl’s doorwings involuntarily flinched. “If you ever need anything at all, even to talk, my section of the compound is open to you always.”

“Thank you,” Prowl replied, truly meaning what he said.

Shockwave bowed his head respectfully, then exited as quickly as he came.

“What did he want?” Ironhide asked as he meandered over.

Prowl gripped the container a little tighter. “To give me something to pass on to Ironfist.” He then turned to face the lab. “I would like everyone to come here a moment.”

Stopping their various tasks, they all walked up. Prowl held the container in his hands and sadly gazed at it. “Shockwave would like to retrieve Skyfire from Starscream, but this means disabling the tracking mechanism within his collar to do so.” Prowl gently sighed. “In order to do that, a once active collar was obtained for Ironfist to analyze.” He held it out for Ironfist to take. “This collar belonged to Inferno, who was deactivated during his time as a slave.”

Smokescreen dimmed his optics and looked away. Both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe simultaneously clenched their fists as they stared at the small container. Prowl knew this would be hard for them. It’s one thing to know their former comrades were being harmed and tortured, but another to know they’d died.

“I’ll treat it with the utmost respect,” Ironfist replied, taking the container.

“Thank you,” Prowl replied. “You may return to your tasks.”

The group slowly dispersed, all except Ironhide who placed a hand on Prowl’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You’re handling things pretty well without Optimus ‘round. You need to deal with Sides and Sunny, though.”

Prowl glanced at them, watching Sideswipe hand an item to Sunstreaker, looking to make optic contact, and Sunstreaker taking it without looking up from what he was doing.

“I know,” Prowl replied.

…

Sunstreaker dried off and silently left the washracks. He was careful to skirt the lounge area and keep out of his brother’s line of sight before padding down the hall to his room. He stepped inside and froze, optics bright as they fell on an unexpected guest.

“Prowl?”

“We need to talk. Have a seat,” Prowl replied.

Posture sagging, Sunstreaker plopped down beside Prowl on the berth and sighed. “Don’t want to talk about Sides, if that’s why you’re here.”

“That’s not exactly why I’m here,” Prowl replied. “I want to talk about me and you.”

“What do you mean?” Sunstreaker narrowed his optics as he frowned at Prowl.

“First, you love your brother, correct?” Prowl asked.

Suspicious, Sunstreaker scowled. “Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I’m any good for him.”

Prowl held Sunstreaker’s gaze. “Do you find me attractive at all?”

“I, ah, _what?_ ” Sunstreaker was completely thrown for a loop by the out of the blue question.

“Imagine a scenario where there was no Sideswipe, no war, just me sitting in an energon bar, and you come in and see me. Would you find me attractive?” Prowl asked again.

Taking a moment to ogle Prowl’s frame, Sunstreaker shrugged a shoulder. “Sure. You’re handsome, and Praxians are, ah, nice in the berth. Why are you asking me that?”

Prowl’s gaze softened a little. “It takes me a long time to form emotional attachments. Maybe it’s a byproduct of my position as a strategist in wartime, or my previous life as an enforcer, but either way, I don’t form those kind of attachments quickly. Despite sharing a berth with your brother over the last few months, it took me several weeks to work up to more than sharing kisses.”

Sunstreaker grimaced. “You have a point, right?”

“I would like to explore the possibility of a relationship with both you and your brother at the same time. If you’re open to that,” Prowl replied.

Dumbstruck, Sunstreaker stared at Prowl. “You and me and Sides… like a triad?”

“Precisely,” Prowl replied.

“I dunno, Prowl,” Sunstreaker replied, looking away. He and Sideswipe were a mess as it was. To add in another mech seemed like a really bad idea.

“I was hoping you’d be open to at least exploring the option. As I said, it will take me time to foster an emotional connection, and I expect it might be the same for you,” Prowl replied. “But in the meantime we’d each have Sideswipe in our lives.”

“He’d be _thrilled_ about that.” Sunstreaker glanced at Prowl. “Wait, did he suggest this? Put you up to asking me?”

“No. In fact, I didn’t mention I’d even talk to you about it,” Prowl replied. “I hate seeing him in pain, but I also don’t want you suffer, either. We need to find a workable middle ground, and this is the most logical option available.”

“Well, can I think on it before deciding?” Sunstreaker asked.

“Of course,” Prowl replied. He then got to his feet and moved to stand in front of Sunstreaker. “I find you very attractive, in case you were wondering.”

Sunstreaker snorted a laugh. “That’s ‘cause I’m gorgeous even all collared up and with my dull finish.” It was a false bravado, but one he clung to in order to not lose what small part of his pride remained.

Prowl smiled a little at that, then leaned down and kissed Sunstreaker sweetly on the lips. It felt oddly nice, despite how unexpected it was.

Straightening his posture, Prowl fluffed his doorwings and his expression became calm and outwardly devoid of emotion again. “If you decide you’re interested in trying a triad relationship, come to our room any evening and we’ll discuss it further.”

“Right, okay,” Sunstreaker replied, trying not to chuckle at how businesslike Prowl was about such a personal issue.

Prowl then slipped out of his room, and Sunstreaker sighed, falling sideways onto his berth and curling up.

A triad was a certainly a logical way to handle things, but Sunstreaker wasn't generally the logical sort. A part of him was selfish, too. He wanted all of his brother or none at all. To share him with anyone went against how strongly he felt for Sideswipe. Still, this wasn’t _anyone_. This was Prowl. A mech willing to try anything to make his brother happy. He couldn’t be such a bad mech if he loved his brother _that_ much, right? And he was pretty cute… Primus, what was he going to do?

The door to his room slid open partway, and Smokescreen poked his face in. “Hey.”

Sunstreaker half-smiled. “Hey.”

Smokescreen came inside and shut the door. Sunstreaker moved to lie on his back on the berth and Smokescreen wasted no time crawling up and lying against his side.

“What was Prowl doing in here? Talking to you about Sides?” Smokescreen asked.

Gently drawing a circles over the middle of Smokescreen’s back, Sunstreaker nodded. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Kinda?” Smokescreen prompted.

Looking away, Sunstreaker sighed. “He suggested we do a three-way thing. A triad.”

“Really?” Smokescreen sounded surprised. “Do you, I mean, is Prowl even your type?”

“I don’t know.” Optics dimming, he frowned. “Wish things weren’t so complicated.”

Sunstreaker knew if he agreed to try a three-way relationship, Smokescreen would lose his company at night. They hadn’t interfaced since that first evening here, but they’d recharged together every night since arriving. Leaving him alone felt cruel. Gazing at Smokescreen, Sunstreaker felt guilty for even thinking about abandoning him.

“I think you should try it,” Smokescreen said, fingering Sunstreaker’s chest.

“Are you serious?” Sunstreaker asked, surprised.

“Yeah.” Smokescreen looked up at Sunstreaker. “You’re both so miserable. I just don’t see the point of being apart when you’re meant to be together, Prowl or not.”

“But–” Sunstreaker frowned. “Who will you recharge with then?”

Sadness flickered over Smokescreen’s face. “Believe it or not, I’d rather you be happy than feel obligated to bot sit me.”

“I’m not bot sitting,” Sunstreaker declared as he tweaked the edge of Smokescreen’s chevron.

Swatting at his hand, Smokescreen sadly smiled. “You know what I mean.”

“Don’t want to abandon you, though,” Sunstreaker replied, his tone turning more serious.

“You aren’t. You’ve looked out for me, and we’re going to be close for a long time to come.” Smokescreen pressed in closer. “And… I want you to be happy, Sunny.”

Happy was relative all things considered. Sunstreaker sighed again. “I’d settle for less miserable.”

“Then be less miserable.” Smokescreen craned his neck and kissed Sunstreaker’s cheek. “Be with your brother again. But, you know, do it tomorrow so I at least get one more night with you.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll at least try it out.” Sunstreaker chuckled and hugged Smokescreen to his side. “And one more night doesn’t mean we can’t snuggle now and again. For all I know it’ll end up horribly anyway.”

Smokescreen gazed at him and shook his head. “I dunno. I think it might work out if you’re really willing to give Prowl a chance.”

 _One could only hope..._ Sunstreaker thought. At the very least, he’d get to be near his brother again.

...

Sideswipe tugged Prowl into his lap, hands moving over his smaller frame as he mouthed down his neck. It was a lovely distraction. And that’s what was helping him cope with Sunstreaker so close and so far away: distractions. Watching endless hours on the vid screen, throwing himself into his daily tasks, or ‘facing Prowl into berth without holding back were how he made it from day to day now.

“Wanna ride me?” Sideswipe asked.

“I would love to,” Prowl replied, his voice low and seductive.

A knock on the door, startled them both. Prowl glanced at it and then back at Sideswipe.

“Who in Pit is knocking now?” Sideswipe asked. Pretty much everyone knew not to knock when they came in here together.

“This is my doing,” Prowl replied, sliding off Sideswipe’s lap and going to the door.

“What do you mean?” Sideswipe asked, confused.

The door opened to a grumpy-faced Sunstreaker. “You two busy? I can go if you are,” Sunstreaker asked, edging back a step.

Sideswipe’s spark lurched at the sight of his brother. Primus damn their connection to one another.

“Not at all.” Prowl reached out, gently taking hold of Sunstreaker’s wrist and pulling him into the small room then closing the door.

Sideswipe glanced at Prowl, a questioning look on his face. “Prowl?”

“Have a seat, Sunstreaker,” Prowl said, gesturing to the space on the berth next to Sideswipe.

“Prowl, what’s going on?” Sideswipe asked again, wanting an answer.

“After some deep contemplation, I came to the conclusion that perhaps the best solution to the problem at hand is to test out a three-way relationship.” Prowl paused, clasping his hands behind his back. “And I don’t mean Sunstreaker and myself switch back and forth sharing you. What I would like is to build a strong relationship with Sunstreaker like I have with you. Knowing myself, though, that will take time.”

“You’re serious?” Sideswipe shook his head in disbelief. He then glanced at Sunstreaker. “He asked you about this already?”

Sunstreaker frowned as he glared at the floor and nodded.

“Sunny, you’re really willing to try this?” Sideswipe asked, wanting to be sure, especially in light of the fact he wasn’t sure himself about such an idea.

“Yeah,” Sunstreaker replied. “Not like I have much left to lose.”

Sideswipe frowned and looked away from both of them. He wanted his brother back in his life, but he felt a twinge of jealousy about sharing Prowl. After all, if not for Prowl, Sideswipe would have taken his own life.

“Sideswipe?” Prowl prompted as he moved to stand in front of him.

“I dunno if I want to do this,” Sideswipe replied honestly as he looked up at Prowl.

“Why? Cause you’re still mad at me?” Sunstreaker asked, sounding hurt.

Sideswipe glanced at his brother. “I already told you I’d forgiven you forever ago. Primus, my spark won’t stop calling for you now that you’re so close. Every waking moment I feel like it’s going to tear itself from my chest to get to you.”

“Then why wouldn’t you want to try this then?” Sunstreaker asked. “I know I’m not any good for you but I feel the same. My spark won’t stop aching for you. At least with Prowl as part of all this we have a chance at making things work. You told me he’s what’s kept you going... given you something to hang onto.”

“He has,” Sideswipe replied quietly.

“Then maybe he can be that for both of us? If you’re willing to share? I mean, who the frag knows if anything will even develop between me and him, but I can’t keep going on like this. How about you?” Sunstreaker asked, his desperation bleeding into his voice.

Sideswipe stared into his brother’s optics. He wanted to help Sunny heal. Help him see he wasn’t the fragged mess he saw himself as. Maybe he wasn’t the one that could do that for him, though. Maybe they needed someone outside their connection to help them both at once. “Okay. Let’s try it.” He then looked back at Prowl. “I mean, as long as this really is what you want, too?”

Prowl looked between the two of them, optics dimming. “Yes, but after listening to you two, I would like to add one condition.”

“What’s that?” Sideswipe asked.

“You two spark merge at some point in the near future,” Prowl replied.

“That would reopen the bond,” Sideswipe replied with a small frown.

“I believe it’s the only way your sparks will calm. And I need that calm around me as much as you both need it within you,” Prowl said, expression sympathetic.

“When exactly do you expect us to merge by then?” Sunstreaker asked.

“No set timeframe. Whenever you feel ready,” Prowl replied. “I do think sooner might be more beneficial, though.”

Sideswipe slowly nodded to the addendum as did Sunstreaker, though his brother was scowling. They hadn’t merged in eons now. How strange would it be to suddenly feel the bond come back to life after it had gone silent so long ago? He definitely shared his brother’s reservations.  

“Now that we’re all agreed, I would like to invite Sunstreaker to stay with us tonight,” Prowl said.

Looking at the berth that barely fit two mechs, Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge. “And we’ll fit how exactly?”

“You two side by side and I will lie over top,” Prowl replied, clearly having already thought about it.

Sideswipe cracked a smile. “Sounds like a good plan.”

It took some shuffling, but they managed to cram together on the berth. Sideswipe felt more content already just being physically close to Sunstreaker, even if they had light years to go before things got better between them emotionally.

Prowl settled mostly overtop of Sideswipe, and then reached across Sunstreaker to grab the inhibitor.

“What’s that?” Sunstreaker asked.

“It’s for me,” Sideswipe replied with a sheepish smile.

“Sideswipe experiences vivid memory feedback, which sometimes displaces reality,” Prowl replied, snapping it into place on his neck.

“I got caught in a memory feedback loop of being with Wildrider and beat the slag out of Prowl once. So this makes sure I don’t hurt him,” Sideswipe explained.

“Oh,” Sunstreaker replied with a sad frown. “So you can’t move with it on?”

“His lower body is immobilized.” Prowl pressed the button and Sideswipe lost his ability to move. The sensation had taken time to get used to, but now it offered comfort, knowing Prowl and his brother would be safe from him.

“You have a processor glitch, then?” Sunstreaker quietly asked.

“Yeah, probably from the fuel deprivation,” Sideswipe replied.

“Sides,” Sunstreaker turned more to his side, and sadly gazed at him. “I didn’t realize how bad it was for you.”

“We’ve all had bad slag happen,” Sideswipe replied.

Leaning in, Sunstreaker kissed Sideswipe’s cheek, then settled his head on his shoulder. Prowl reached out and gently trailed his fingers over Sunstreaker’s face. “Thank you for coming here tonight.”

Sunstreaker dimmed his optics. “You’ve been good to me so far, and Sides adores you. Seemed worth a shot.”

Sideswipe couldn’t help but grin at that. “I adore you both.”

Prowl kissed Sideswipe’s cheek in response.

Whether this was going to work or not remained unclear, but this was already much better than Sunstreaker ignoring him. Sideswipe just hoped they’d be able to find their way together.

…

Ironhide didn’t recharge much these days. He mostly just lay in his berth staring up at the ceiling trying hard to think about better times so the more recent memories wouldn’t take hold. It was hard, though. He was coping at least. More than he could say for some of his comrades here.

His thoughts wandered toward Optimus. He missed his old friend and commander more than he could ever really put into words. Prowl was a far cry from the benevolent leader Optimus had been, but he was doing surprisingly well all things considered. Ironhide wasn’t stupid, either. He could see the overall plan Shockwave was carefully putting into place: gather all able bodied Autobots to help him overthrow Megatron. He was being meticulous about it, too. His acquisitions bought or traded for in the most discreet ways possible. Still, there were only six of them so far. Hardly an army’s worth. And who knew if Shockwave would even grant them freedom if he was successful in taking over power.

The sounds of sobbing, drew him from his thoughts. Ironhide sat up, and pressed his audio to the wall beside his berth, listening. “Smokes…” He slid off the berth, and left his room, walking the handful of steps to the next room.

Lightly wrapping his knuckles on the door, he grimaced, unsure his presence would be wanted.

“Someone there?” Smokescreen’s muffled question came through the poorly insulated door.

“Yeah,” Ironhide replied as he cracked the door and peered in.

Smokescreen was curled up on his side in the berth, doorwings quivering on his back and tears smeared over his face from trying to quickly wipe them away.

“Hey, mind if I come in a sec?” Ironhide asked.

Pushing to sit up, Smokescreen nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

He entered the room and quietly shut the door. Sitting down beside Smokescreen, he rested hands in his lap. “What’s got ya upset?”

“It’s nothing,” Smokescreen replied, staring down at the floor.

“Far cry from nothing, if you ask me,” Ironhide replied.

“Thought I could be okay alone.” He sadly smiled as he glanced at Ironhide. “Guess not. But, not like I can change things.”

“Gonna take a stab in the dark here, Sunny’s not in his room tonight?” Ironhide asked.

“Him and Sides and Prowl are going to try and work out a relationship together,” Smokescreen replied. “I thought I’d be fine without him, but everytime I try to recharge memories come back.”

That was certainly an interesting solution to the problem of the twins...

Ironhide put his arm around Smokescreen’s shoulders. “Sorry you lost yer buddy.”

Smokescreen leaned against Ironhide, wiping his face dry with his hands. “I felt safer near him. I know that sounds pretty pathetic, but being alone I start to get that creeping fear I’ll wake up back in that place with those Constructicons again.”

“I know how that is. I barely recharge these days. Just not worth the memory feedback,” Ironhide replied.

With a nod, Smokescreen sighed.

They sat together in silence for a little while, and Ironhide had to admit it was kind of nice to hold someone again. He’d been afraid even touching other mechs might trigger his dark memories of Octane, but instead it reminded him of better times.

Smokescreen soon calmed and his optics started to flicker and dim. Clearly he was  exhausted and fighting to stay awake. Ironhide gently hugged Smokescreen’s shoulders with his arm draped around them.  “How ‘bout I stay with you for tonight?” he asked.

Smokescreen looked up at him and sadly smiled. “I’d really like that.”

Ironhide half-smiled in reply, then moved to lay back on the berth. Smokescreen curled up at his side, head resting on his shoulder. Fingering the edge of Ironhide’s boxy chest for a moment, Smokescreen sighed. “Thanks for checking on me and everything.”

“Sure thing,” Ironhide replied.

Smokescreen tucked both his hands under his chin and offlined his optics, his body relaxed and within moments the distinctive hum of recharge took over.

“You were exhausted alright,” Ironhide whispered as he gently traced the edge of Smokescreen’s yellow chevron.

Ironhide lay there for a while, watching Smokescreen, wondering how in the world would they be able to fight when they each had so many demons haunting them? Maybe their pain would be what fueled them to fight harder than ever. Or maybe it would break them. Optics dimming, Ironhide felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him. He’d normally stay awake as long as possible, thinking about things, or reminiscing, but the warmth of Smokescreen’s frame and soft vibration from his recharge soon scattered Ironhide’s thoughts to the edges. With a sigh, he gave into the seductive undertow of recharge, slipping offline to join his friend.

…

“Clever little device. But easy to circumvent the mechanisms,” Ironfist said as he prodded at Inferno’s collar. He’d taken it apart piece by piece, and carefully laid out on the table in their lounge area.

“Why work on it here?” Ironhide asked, arms folded as he watched with genuine interest.

“Oh, well, seems like the kind of thing that should be done in a more private sort of place,” Ironfist smiled behind his mask, and rubbed the back of his helm. “Outloud that sounds kinda weird, though.”

“Nah, I get what you mean,” Ironhide replied with a small smile.

Smokescreen wandered over and pulled up a chair to join them, reaching under the table to give Ironhide’s knee a gentle squeeze. “Make any progress?” Smokescreen's asked. Ironhide smiled a little, and patted the hand over his knee.

“Yeah. This here is the tracker. And there’s a secondary tracker here. One is active at all times, that’s the one that Swindle can use to locate any of us wearing a collar. This one here–” Ironfist pointed to a small round metal piece. “–it’s the tracker that’s activated when a collar is removed and sends an emergency signal to Swindle in addition to the location.”

“Is there a way to disable the tracker without setting off the emergency signal?” Prowl asked.

They all looked up at the doorway to the rooms, seeing Prowl flanked by Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

“You all finally decided to get up, hm?” Ironhide asked, teasing a little.

Ironfist nodded at Prowl. “Yeah! I can deactivate the trackers and disable the emergency signal, too,” Ironfist replied, clearly excited about his progress.

“You can really do all that?” Sideswipe asked.

“Yep. Just need some more parts from the lab to finish this,” Ironfist said, holding up a small remote device.

Prowl was incredibly pleased with Ironfist’s work. “Excellent, Ironfist. You all go to the lab and I’ll speak with Shockwave regarding the progress.”

…

Being crammed in the berth with the twins hadn’t been terrible, but Prowl’s somewhat stiff gate as he made his way to Shockwave’s area of the compound told him they needed a larger one regardless.

Despite a few moments of awkwardness when they woke, Prowl was generally pleased that Sunstreaker had decided to come by and that Sideswipe had agreed to trying a three-way relationship. It would take time to develop deeper feelings for Sunstreaker as far as Prowl was concerned but he felt they were at the very least finding a middle ground and removing the tension for the time being.

Arriving at the door, Prowl was about to buzz for admittance when his proximity and new access opened the door automatically. He frowned, feeling strange about just walking in but he had no other choice. He took a few steps inside and craned his neck to see into the main living area.

“Sir?” Prowl called out, instantly wincing at his voice carrying down the nearby hallway. Shockwave could be recharging for all he knew.

He then backed up a step and considered maybe leaving a note when he heard a door open and Shockwave appeared in the hallway.

“Prowl, what a nice surprise,” Shockwave said as he walked toward him.

“I was going to ring the buzzer, but the door opened since you’ve given me access,” Prowl tried to lamely explain.

“I gave you free access for your use anytime,” Shockwave replied, trying to reassure Prowl.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Prowl asked.

“Not at all.” Shockwave gestured to the living area. “Come in. Have a seat. Tell me the reason for your visit.”

Doorwings sagging with relief that he hadn’t woken Shockwave, Prowl nodded then proceeded into the adjoining room. He took a seat on one of the smaller plush couches and folded his hands in his lap.

Shockwave poured out two glasses of energon, handing one to Prowl. He then sat and made himself comfortable, and the slot in the bottom of his face opened as he dropped a straw into the liquid fuel and took a sip.

Watching a mech without a face refuel was always an awkward affair, and Prowl quickly took a gulp of his own fuel, looking everywhere but in Shockwave’s direction.

Setting his glass on the small side table, Shockwave’s fuel slot snapped back shut. “What brought you by?”

“Two things, actually,” Prowl replied, holding his glass with both hands. “One, Ironfist has developed a remote that disables the tracking devices as well as the emergency signal. He should have it finished today. I think we should have a test run done with it, beforehand, though.”

“Agreed,” Shockwave replied. “One of you will have to be the test subject. Who did you have in mind?”

“Myself,” Prowl replied. “Should the emergency signal still be activated, then Swindle’s team showing up and finding me with you will not look as suspicious.”

Shockwave nodded. “We can do that, then. If this remote works, that means we can safely remove all your collars.”

Prowl hadn’t really thought about that part of things. “I think we’d all very much like to be rid of them.”

“Then it will be done as soon as it’s feasible,” Shockwave replied, seeming pleased by Prowl’s reaction. “And what was your second point?”

Prowl set his glass aside and took a moment to mentally word his request. “The habitation area works for us for the most part, but in light of recent developments, I would like to ask for... a larger berth?”

Shockwave didn’t immediately reply and Prowl tensed, worried he’d pushed too far with this request.

“I wasn’t going to reveal this quite yet to you. There’s much work left to be done, but in light of your request and the fact I finally acquired the necessary fuel cells just a few days ago, perhaps it’s time.” Shockwave pushed to stand. “Come with me.”

“Sir?” Prowl was confused.

“Place just a little bit of trust in me,” Shockwave replied, offering his hand to help Prowl to his feet.

Taking the hand, Prowl stood. What was Shockwave talking about? Prowl just hoped for a larger berth, what did that have to do fuel cells?

Leading Prowl out of his private suite, Shockwave led him down a corridor he’d never been down before. When they reached the end, Shockwave took Prowl down several flights of stairs that took them to yet another hallway, though this one was much shorter.

“Have you ever wondered why I chose such a remote location out here for my compound, Prowl?” Shockwave asked.

“I assumed for privacy,” Prowl replied.

“That was a large factor, yes, but there was another reason as well.” Shockwave led Prowl to a door at the end of the hallway and palmed it open.

Prowl expected to see a room behind it, but that’s not what was on the other side. “By Primus’ light,” Prowl said, staring with bright optics a large starship standing before them.

Shockwave chuckled a little at Prowl’s reaction, then clasped his arms behind his back as he walked into the cavernous hangar. “When I began scavenging with my private teams and drones, I planned on living within Megatron’s new city. But then one of my remote drones tunneled through some rubble to scout this area out and broke through into this underground hold.” He stopped and looked at Prowl. “This ship is in bad shape. It needs a lot of work done to it’s engines. The fuel system it uses required specialized equipment I just negotiated the purchase of. The parts will be arriving from offworld when the Constructicons return in a few weeks.”

“Won’t they suspect something?” Prowl asked, breaking his gaze on the large starship to look at Shockwave. “Bringing back parts for a ship?”

“I’ve told them it’s for a more efficient power source for the compound,” Shockwave replied.

Still shocked by such a revelation, Prowl looked back up at the ship. “Is it entirely non-functioning?”

“The power can be routed through the grid of the compound to make it functional. The current fuel cells won’t hold a charge, unfortunately. It is also an older model which will require quite a lot of upgrading.” Shockwave reached over and put his hand on Prowl’s shoulder.

For the first time in weeks, Prowl didn’t flinch at the touch.

“But I believe with Ironfist and soon Skyfire on hand to assist, this starship can be made space-worthy again.” Shockwave glanced at Prowl. “I can tell I’ve taken you by surprise,” he said with a small chuckle.

Prowl shook his head. “I wasn’t expecting this at all. Certainly not in reply to my request for a larger berth. Which, I’m sorry–” he looked at Shockwave. “-what does this ship have to do with my request?”

“Unlike the broken section of a small shuttle ship that you all call home, I thought perhaps you could move into a more spacious location,” Shockwave replied. “This ship can house up to one-hundred occupants comfortably, including officer’s quarters with _larger_ berths.”

“You want us to move onto the ship?” Prowl asked.

“That’s the idea,” Shockwave replied.

Prowl smiled a little as he rubbed the back of his helm and looked back at the beautiful ship that would be their salvation. “May I bring them down here to see?”

“Of course. In fact, the sooner Ironfist is down here to start work on hooking it up to the power grid the sooner you all can move into a much more comfortable setup,” Shockwave replied.

Prowl placed his hand overtop of Shockwave’s that was still resting on his shoulder. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done and are doing to help us.”

“I’m only trying to set things right again. I helped create this dark future and it was never my intention to bring about such abhorrent conditions for fellow Cybertronians. Autobot or not, enslavement on any level whether by function or chosen faction is a wrong I will always fight to right,” Shockwave replied.


	13. According to Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skyfire's day of rescue is at hand and the threads of their various lives start to weave into one another.

The Hack-

 

Jazz's fingers danced over his holo guitar, sending a melodic wave of lovely music wafting into the air. He watched Soundwave from where he was sitting on the berth, curious what his new lover was up to.

Staring intently at his screen, Soundwave's fingers were moving just as gracefully over the keys while lines of code scrolled past.

Footfall drew Jazz's attention toward the door. Rumble tromped into the berth room and folded his arms over his chest.

Pausing his playing, Jazz only lightly strummed his guitar as he waited for Soundwave to address his cassette.

Soundwave didn't even look over at Rumble, though.

"A-hem," Rumble said.

Jazz glanced from the cassette to Soundwave, but still no pause in his keystrokes.

"Hey, Big Guy! I got a problem!" Rumble practically yelled.

"Not right now. Ask Jazz for assistance," Soundwave intoned.

 _Ask Jazz?_ What the frag? Frowning, his and Rumble's gazes locked. "What's the problem? Too short to reach somethin'?" Jazz asked with a smirk.

"Shut the frag up and come and see for yourself." Rumble stomped off.

Sighing, Jazz got up to put his holo guitar away.

"Antagonizing cassettes will return negative results," Soundwave said, pausing for a moment to look at Jazz.

"I carry no authority in this place. I dunno what you expect me to do," Jazz replied, frowning.

"Cassettes have more respect for you now that you share my berth," Soundwave replied.

Jazz didn't agree with Soundwave's assessment but he wasn't going to try and argue the point. He closed the cabinet with his holo guitar safely locked inside. "I'll deal as best as I can with 'em."

Out in the main living area, Jazz was greeted by the almost comical sight of the room in shambles. The vid screen was hanging by one peg on the wall, the couches askew, the floor mat pushed up against the wall and pieces of various old board games strewn everywhere. Frenzy was on the third shelf up of a large shelving unit throwing anything he found down to the ground below.

"What the frag?" Jazz asked as he surveyed the scene.

"Frenzy got mad I didn't wanna fr-ah-'face and now he’s having a tantrum!" Rumble explained as he gestured to the mess.

Jazz spied Laserbeak perched up in the corner away from the chaos, and Ravage lounging on one of the askew couches, seemingly unbothered by the mess or noise.

“You’re the biggest fragger ever sparked!” Frenzy threw a small metallic statue at Rumble, which he ducked.

“Just because I said I thought the Autobrat is hot doesn’t mean–” Rumble ducked another flying object. “–that’s why I’m not in the mood!”

“I’m hot, huh?” Jazz asked, glancing at Rumble.

“Ever since we saw you and the Big Guy it’s _all_ he fragging talks about!” Frenzy yelled this time throwing a datapad at Jazz’s head, which he narrowly avoided with a quick side step.

“Hold up, Frenzy!” Jazz held his hands up in a submissive gesture.

Poised to throw another small metallic statute, Frenzy’s visor narrowed. “What? What could you possibly say to me to make Rumble stop being such a glitch and liking you!”

“I never said I liked him! He’s a stinky Autobrat!” Rumble said with genuine outrage at such an accusation.

“Like, don’t like, not really the point,” Jazz said. “I dunno how it works between you two, but you all have been together a long time, right?”

“Yeah,” they replied in annoyed unison.

“So maybe spice things up a bit? Do something different?” Jazz offered. Primus, was he really giving these little obnoxious monsters relationship advice?

“Different?” Frenzy asked.

“Like how?” Rumble asked.

“Why not role-play? You, ah, you could pretend to be me and Sounders maybe?” Jazz offered, really not sure where he was going with it, but hoping they were buying into it anyway.

The two exchanged looks, and then Frenzy hopped down off the shelf and walked up to Rumble. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Apologize for sayin’ Jazz is the hottest mech in this apartment.”

Surprised Rumble would ever say anything like that about him, Jazz half-smiled.

“Sorry. He’s not. He’s second to you,” Rumble replied with a sheepish look.

“I think we’ve got some paints in the bottom cabinet. Paint you up blue and add some white to me and we can do that thing Jazz just said. If you wanted,” Frenzy said with a shrug.

Paint? Jazz shook his head. “That wasn’t exactly what I meant–”

“Okay sure!” Rumble said with a grin.

Jazz looked between them. “You just pretend, you don’t need to actually paint–”

“Thanks Autobrat!” the two said in unison before dashing off to their room.

Jazz sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around at the mess. “Not playin’ bot sitter _and_ maid,” he grumbled as he stalked back to the berthroom.

Walking in he slowed as he caught sight of a grid up on Soundwave’s monitor. Squinting he saw along the left side names of his fellow Autobots. “What is that?”

“Swindle’s monitoring system,” Soundwave replied without pausing his typing.

Stepping closer, Jazz frowned. “You hacked his system? Why?”

Soundwave had a secondary window open within the monitoring code, and was putting an override in for Prowl. “For testing purposes.”

“You’re testing on Prowl?” Jazz asked becoming highly concerned.

“One moment and I will explain,” Soundwave replied. His blue fingers continued to fly over the keys and Jazz read the overriding code. His years as Special Ops suddenly being put to use again, he was able to decypher the code and soon understood what Soundwave was doing.

“I get it,” Jazz said, visor brightening. “You’re circumventing the system to make it look like Prowl’s still being tracked when in reality he could be anywhere.”

Soundwave nodded as he finished and executed the new coding. “This deception will only work for stationary Autobots.”

“So it won’t work for someone like me? ‘Cause they see me moving around all the time?” Jazz asked.

“Affirmative,” Soundwave replied.

“But, why are you doing this?” Jazz asked.

“Shockwave’s request to protect Prowl for the test,” Soundwave replied.

“What test?” Jazz asked, focusing on Soundwave and not the screen.

Soundwave looked up at him. “Testing a device to deactivate trackers and emergency signal in collars.”

Jazz stared at Soundwave for a moment. “You all are gonna take his collar off?”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave replied, pulling Jazz to sit in his lap.

Settling against his new lover, Jazz gazed at the monitor reading the list of names. It made his spark ache with a deep resonating pain to see so many of his former friends and comrades enslaved.

Soundwave’s mask retracted and Jazz felt light kisses to his helm horn. “What did the cassettes need assistance with?”

“Frenzy was mad at Rumble, I got them to make up, but the living area is in shambles,” Jazz replied. “When is the test?”

“In a few minutes.” Soundwave slid a hand over Jazz’s middle slowly. “I must monitor Prowl’s signal until Shockwave sends in a confirmation ping.”

“And grope me in the meantime?” Jazz asked, half-smiling as that hand moved lower to draw circles over his interface over.

“Affirmative,” Soundwave replied. He then mouthed one of Jazz’s helm horns, while cupping his interface cover.

Jazz’s body heated to the touches, but he kept his focus on Prowl’s signal. “You can ‘face me into oblivion after. I wanna be sure Prowl is safe first.”

“Of course,” Soundwave replied, though he continued to rub the closed panel.

Playfully swatting the hand away, Jazz shook his head. “Insatiable, aren’t you?”

“You are a beautiful temptation,” Soundwave replied.

Breaking his gaze on the monitor, Jazz twisted his head to look up at Soundwave, feeling a strong twinge in his spark. “And you’re gorgeous, too. But right now Prowl is the most important thing.”

Soundwave kissed him sweetly and nodded before his focus returned to the monitor and his wandering hands came to rest over Jazz’s middle. Jazz settled in and waited, praying to Primus Soundwave’s hack had worked. Prowl was one of his oldest, dearest friends, and he would be beside himself if anything happened to him.

…

The Test-

 

The day before, Prowl had happily shared the news of the hidden starship, and taken everyone down to see it. Ironfist was already drafting plans on how to reroute power to it. While it wasn’t habitable quite yet, it was only a matter of time and it had buoyed everyone’s moods, including Prowl’s.

Standing in the foyer of the compound, Prowl waited with Shockwave and Ironfist for word from Soundwave to start the test run of the collar disabling device.

“The device needs to be up against the collar then press this button to send a pulse that should disable the trackers and emergency signal,” Ironfist said, demonstrating for Shockwave.

“ _Should_?” Shockwave replied, fingering the device in his one hand as Ironfist handed it off.

“Well, yeah. In theory, it’ll send a pulse wave of electromagnetic energy that disrupts and subsequently shorts the internal components,” Ironfist replied.

“Will it disrupt more than the collar’s workings?” Prowl asked, suddenly feeling unsure about using it so close to his processor and major energon lines in his neck.

“It’s tuned to the collar’s energy levels, which are very low. It won’t hurt you, Prowl,” Ironfist replied in a cheery tone.

Shockwave’s singular optic sharply focused on Ironfist. “How low a level?”

“About one hundred nano-waves,” Ironfist replied.

Nodding, Shockwave looked convinced. Prowl had no idea what ‘nano-waves’ were, but by the nod given, he felt it must be safe enough to be exposed to.

“The ping from Soundwave just came over my internal comm.” Shockwave looked at Prowl. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Prowl replied.

Shockwave stepped up to Prowl and the glow of his golden optic seem to soften as he pressed the device against the collar. Prowl canted his head, giving better access and then felt the slight zap of the device being used. Pulling back, Shockwave looked at the device in hand, then back up at Prowl. “Try removing the collar.”

Prowl reached up and fumbled to find the latch area. Ironfist quickly pitched in and helped him locate the well-hidden catches. Pinching them, the collar parted and fell away from Prowl’s neck.

It felt like a lead weight had been removed from his body. One step closer to the freedom they all deserved, he rubbed at his neck with one hand while holding the collar with the other.

“How does it feel?” Shockwave asked, warmth entering his voice.

“Wonderful,” Prowl replied.

“Any word from Soundwave about setting off any alarms?” Ironfist asked.

Shockwave’s optic dimmed for a moment, then brightened as he looked at them again. “No change in Prowl’s signal on Swindle’s board, and the hack he put in place is now being created for each of you. He’ll comm. when he’s done and I’ll get these unseemly collars off each of you.”

“That’s great!” Ironfist replied.

“Thank you, Shockwave,” Prowl said, lightly touching the larger mech’s arm. “This means a great deal to me. I know it will to the others as well.”

Shockwave placed his hand over Prowl’s. “Just doing the right thing.”

…

The Disguise-

 

It had been days since Bumblebee arrived. He remained offline, deep in recharge. Mirage and Bluestreak had moved him to the middle of their berth and they’d been recharging curled around his prone form each night.

Bluestreak was diligent in caring for the minibot, fueling Bumblebee twice a day and even wiping his plating down with a damp cloth once a day. It gave him someone to focus on and helped ease the pain of losing Jazz.

“I need to go help Thundercracker for a little while. Do you need anything before I go?” Mirage asked, petting the center of Bluestreak’s back.

He glanced at his friend and shook his head. “Nah. Just gonna sit with Bee and maybe read to him a little.”

The shift in Mirage’s mood hadn’t gone unnoticed. Bluestreak suspected his friend was finally moving past his issues and that he and Thundercracker were finally acting on their unspoken attraction to one another. Not that Mirage had told him that, it was just the impression he got. He didn’t mind, though. It was nice to see Mirage look more like his old self again, even if it was also highlighting his own loss.

Mirage kissed Bluestreak’s cheek, then left with a definite bounce in his walk.

Bluestreak grabbed a datapad from the side table and settled on the berth next to Bumblebee. He paged through several stories before choosing one and then began to read aloud. After finishing a few paragraphs, he paused and looked over at Bumblebee’s face. His broken horns and lack of expression hurt to look at, but he kept forcing himself to look anyway. Unlike Mirage or even Jazz, he’d not been violated or beaten. He’d been living in this gilded cage with Thundercracker since that day at the auction, oblivious to the pain his friends suffered for the most part. With Bumblebee here, it helped him remember and keep a more grounded perspective when it came to how hard life was for most of his friends beyond these locked walls.

He frowned as he looked back at the datapad, wondering if he was wasting his time trying to read out loud like this.

“Then what?”

Nearly jumping right out of plating, Bluestreak actually yelped in surprise as he looked back over at Bumblebee gazing up at him with barely lit optics. “Bee?”

“The mech traded his cog and then what?” Bumblebee asked, voice full of static.

“Uh, he, ah…” Bluestreak stammered as he glanced at the datapad and quickly read the next line. “He traded his cog for a special one called a t-cog.”

“Myths,” Bumblebee said with a smile. “You’re reading me myths.”

Bluestreak looked back at Bumblebee. “Primus, I can’t believe you’re online. What do you need? Maybe I should go get help? You’re definitely gonna need to see the medic again, but Thundercracker and Mirage are busy…” He trailed off, frowning.

“Blue,” Bumblebee chuckled a little and his optics dim glow got brighter. “Just like you always were.”

Bluestreak put the datapad aside and then turned to face Bumblebee better. “Yeah. I’m pretty much the same, I guess.”

Bumblebee lifted an arm up and flexed his fingers. “I’m really stiff.”

Taking hold of Bumblebee’s hand, Bluestreak gently massaged the joints. “That happens when you don’t move for a long time while not in a stasis pod or regen tank.”

“That feels nice,” Bumblebee replied with a sigh. The crackle of static started to clear from his voice, which was encouraging. Bumblebee glanced down at his body and frowned. “Can’t move my legs, though.”

“Really?” Bluestreak let go of his hand and scooted down to start massaging one of Bumblebee’s pedes hoping it might help his sensory net to kick into gear.

Gazing at Bluestreak, Bumblebee sadly smiled. “You’ve been taking care of me, haven’t you? Talking to me?”

Sheepishly smiling, Bluestreak nodded. “Been reading to you and talking to you. I didn’t know if you could hear me, though.”

“Part of me heard you,” Bumblebee replied, fondness coloring his voice.

“I’m glad.” Bluestreak gazed at Bumblebee with his dented plating and broken horns. He often didn’t think much about age since they all lived such long lifetimes, but he could see just how much older Bumblebee was than him. He looked so tired and worn, and it wasn’t just his injuries giving that impression. “I should go get Thundercracker. He needs that medic to look you over.”

“Thundercracker. So he owns me now?” Bumblebee asked, looking vaguely concerned.

“He rescued you. You were left for dead on the refinery floor,” Bluestreak replied.

“Yeah. My attempt to lead a rebellion didn’t go so well,” Bumblebee said with a shrug. “What kind of owner is he? Thundercracker?”

Bluestreak moved his hands up Bumblebee’s leg, working his knee joint with nimble fingers. “He’s trying to free us. Him and a few other Decepticons. They don’t like this world how it is. They’ve been helping us. He’s not really our owner, more like our guardian for the moment.”

Bumblebee seemed surprised. “Huh.”

“Can you feel any of this?” Bluestreak asked, concerned about the lack of sensation in Bumblebee’s lower body.

“I can feel that a little,” Bumblebee replied. "Around my knee joint, but nothing much below that."

With a sigh, Bluestreak’s hands stopped moving over the small leg. “I’m gonna go get Thundercracker. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Bumblebee weakly grabbed hold of Bluestreak’s wrist. “Wait, not yet. I just… I just want to sit here with you a little while first, and you can tell me what’s been going on, okay? Please? I only know what I saw at the refinery.”

How could he say no? Bluestreak nodded and then moved over to start massaging Bumblebee’s other leg. “What do you want to know?”

“ _Everything_ ,” Bumblebee replied.

…

In Thundercracker’s private washrack, Mirage prepared for his task of making the seeker before him look completely different.

“Place this at the base of each wing,” Thundercracker said, handing Mirage two inhibitors.

“You know, these can be used in naughty ways,” Mirage said with a wicked smile.

Thundercracker ducked his head a little as shyly smiled. “Yes, but right now it’s the only way I’ll hold still while you to apply the temporary paint to my wings.”

Mirage walked around and then carefully placed the inhibitors at the base of each wing and turned them on.

Thundercracker grimaced at the sudden lack of sensation. “Let’s get this over with.”

Mirage crouched down next to the largest paint pot, and twisted off the lid. “Going with all red, I see?”

“Seemed like a good enough color,” Thundercracker replied. “You don’t approve?”

“I prefer my handsome seeker in his lovely blue,” Mirage replied, dipping the wide foam brush into the paint before standing. He did a twirl with his finger in the air. “Turn around now.”

“As you wish,” Thundercracker replied, obliging the request.

Applying the paint in even strokes, Mirage stayed sharply focused. Silence reigned, but it was a comfortable sort of quiet. When Mirage first arrived he was terrified of silences, which was part of what made Bluestreak such a good companion for him. But he was starting to finally recover somewhat from the abuse he endured at Skywarp's hands, and his trust in Thundercracker had grown exponentially in his time here.

"Wings done," Mirage announced as he set the brush down on a cloth. He then removed the inhibitors and handed them back to Thundercracker.

Stuffing them into his subspace, Thundercracker gazed at Mirage, warmly smiling. "Now for the rest." Thundercracker held his arms out.

Re-wetting his brush with the paint, Mirage stood facing Thundercracker as he carefully painted blue to red over one arm then moved onto the other.

“You think this will work to disguise you?” Mirage asked. “I’d hate for someone to recognize your face and have this whole plan backfire.”

Thundercracker’s black fingers gently cupped Mirage’s chin, turning his head up to look up. “There’s no predicting what might happen, but I promise that you will be safe one way or another.”

“What does that mean?” Mirage asked.

“Should something happen to me while attempting this rescue, you all will be cared for and moved to a safe place,” Thundercracker replied.

“And what about you?” Mirage frowned. “I’ve finally gotten stable enough in my own mind to open up more with you. Last thing I want is for us to be ripped apart over all this.”

Crimson optics dimmed slightly and Thundercracker gently trailed his fingers down the side of Mirage’s face. “Then I’ll add to my promise that I will do everything in my power to return to you.”

Reaching up, Mirage covered his hand over Thundercracker’s against his cheek. “I do believe you’ve captured my spark,” he admitted in a hushed voice.

Leaning in closer, Thundercracker kissed Mirage sweetly. “And you have mine,” he said with their lips lingering against one another.

Heat flared through Mirage’s frame with newly awakened desire. “How dare you distract me like this,” Mirage chided. “I can’t be expected to focus now.”

Thundercracker chuckled. “You might get some red paint on you.”

“It’ll come off,” Mirage replied before initiating another, deep kiss. Their glossae tangled between their linked mouths, intensifying the arousal taking hold of Mirage.

It had been so long since he’d felt this for anyone. As the kiss broke, Mirage stepped back and deposited the brush into the paint pot. Turning to face Thundercracker again, he took hold of one of his hands.

“What do you feel up to?” Thundercracker asked as he pulled Mirage in close enough to hug. _It was a good thing the paint dried quickly_ , Mirage thought as large arms enveloped his lithe frame.

“I’m willing to try interfacing if you are, but with one stipulation: no berth,” Mirage replied. Being near the berth with Thundercracker was a trigger, bringing up painful memories. Other locations didn’t have the same effect on him, though.

“No berth…” Thundercracker glanced around the washrack. “Could shove me up against the wall and have your way, but that means touching up my paint job after.”

Mirage knew Thundercracker was teasing, but he decided that’s exactly what he wanted to do. Thundercracker was no doubt larger, but the idea of being spiked held no appeal for Mirage right now. He still needed control over how they interacted. “Sounds like a perfect plan,” he replied, hands flattening against Thundercracker’s chest as he pushed him toward the wall. Thundercracker’s wings fluttered slightly. Unsure if that was a nervous or approving gesture, Mirage stopped cold. “Unless you’d rather not?”

Taking hold of one of Mirage’s hands, Thundercracker kissed the backs of his fingers. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I just... I can’t be on the receiving end just yet,” Mirage replied, his moment of confidence faltering. Sabotaged by self-doubt and insecurities, his desire started to slip away.

Seeming to sense the shift, Thundercracker cupped his face in his hands and gazed deeply into his optics. “I would love to have you buried inside me.”

That wasn’t the sort of thing a noble would ever say, but it held enough shock value to knock Mirage free of his of sudden flurry of doubts. “You’re _very_ naughty.”

“I am,” Thundercracker replied with a playful smile. “What will you do about it, hm?”

“Give you what you want,” Mirage replied, pushing Thundercracker the last few steps until his back hit the wall.

Mouths met once again in a kiss as Mirage groped the closed cover between Thundercracker’s legs. It opened in response to his probing fingers and Mirage broke the kiss with a soft gasp. “May I?”

“Primus, yes,” Thundercracker breathed, parting his legs a little more for Mirage.

Not wasting a moment, Mirage skimmed past the semi-onlined spike to reach lower and circle Thundercracker’s valve rim slowly before dipping inside with his fingertips. He was pleased to find the mesh walls already slicked, and smiled brightly when Thundercracker softly moaned in response to his touches. Even painted mostly red, Thundercracker’s handsome features were his alone, and enthralling to watch as he indulged in the pleasure being offered.

Opening his own cover, Mirage squeezed his eager spike with his free hand and moved in close enough to trade his fingers for the head of his spike. Being shorter he was going to have to get on his toes in order to fully penetrate, and frowned as he mentally cursed their differing stature.

“Here.” Thundercracker slid down the wall, bending his legs just enough to give Mirage better access.

Mirage shyly looked down. “I don’t believe a ground-bound mech and a flier were ever meant for this.”

Turning Mirage’s face back up, Thundercracker gazed at him with so much adoration it actually made his spark flutter. “Love knows no boundaries or heights.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, Mirage shook his head. He was sure he’d never be able to say it out loud, but he did _love_ this mech. Pressing in close, Mirage rested their forehelms together then rolled his hips upward, spike spreading Thundercracker’s quivering valve as it filled it.

Both of Thundercracker’s hands lifted and cupped Mirage’s helm, thumbs gently caressing the thin lined vents on either side. “Make me yours, _please_.”

Mirage nodded as his hands found Thundercracker’s hips as he withdrew only to thrust up again. A motion he repeated over and over, until they were both shivering and moaning, linked together. He drew on his noble training, twisting his hips slightly to rub along differing sets of internal nodes to bring his lover the most pleasure he could. Thundercracker’s arms moved to flatten against the wall, helping hold his weight as he trembled and groaned.

It didn’t take long before they were both coming undone at the seams. Mirage did his best to please, impaling him in an upward motion as he clung tightly to black hips. Thundercracker’s wings clattered against the stall wall and he arched his body slightly just before he overloaded with a sharp cry. His optics went dark and his whole body shuddered with the wave of pleasure that rolled through him. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

Thrusting through the tight grasp of his new lover’s valve, Mirage found himself quickly following suit. Overloading with a roar, he pushed up and stood on his toes, sinking to the hilt as he exploded deep inside this mech that had taken hold of his spark. He stayed there for several beats, relishing the heat and thrill of enjoying something so intimate with Thundercracker.

“Can’t hold myself up…” Thundercracker’s words came too late as his grip gave way and his balancing act was toppled, taking them both down at once.

Mirage laughed a little as he carefully righted himself in Thundercracker’s lap and kissed his cheek. “More warning would have been helpful.”

“My apologies, but I thought I could hold up longer than I did.” Thundercracker gently trailed his fingers down the side of Mirage’s helm. “That was wonderful.”

“I wasn’t too rusty?” Mirage asked, leaning into the touch.

“Not at all.” Thundercracker leaned forward and gently kissed Mirage.

The flutter in his spark returned full-force, and Mirage gazed dreamily at Thundercracker. As much as he resented his collar and the abuse that so deeply scarred him, he knew he would never have ended up in this mech’s arms if not for those events. It was hard to imagine a future of any substance in this fragged up world, but a part of him dared to hope at some point they’d be free to properly court one another without any barriers in their way.

“As much as I’d like to sit here with you in my arms, plotting other things we might try, I still need my disguise of paint touched up and finished,” Thundercracker said as he gently rubbed the middle of Mirage’s back.

Curling up against Thundercracker’s chest, Mirage dimmed his optics. “I just want a moment or two more to enjoy this. If that’s alright?”

Holding Mirage closer, Thundercracker kissed the top of his helm with a sated sigh. “I see no harm in that at all.”

…

The Set Up-

 

Mostly cleaned up after another intense romp in the berth, Jazz followed Soundwave out of the berth room.

“Your part in this scenario will be dangerous,” Soundwave intoned as they walked into the main living area, which was still in shambles.

“I’ll be fine,” Jazz assured him.

Soundwave came to a stop, looked around the living area, then turned to face Jazz. Expecting to be lectured about the messy living room, Jazz frowned a little as he readied himself to point out that he wasn’t a maid.

“Inside the detailing parlour my ability to protect you will be decreased drastically. I do not want you harmed. If something does not go according to the plan, then abort immediately and find me. Is that clear?” Soundwave said, visibly concerned for Jazz.

“Got it.” Jazz smiled a little. “I’m pretty good at running these kinda Ops, though. Collared or not, I’m still me.”

Soundwave’s fingers slid down over the collar. “If things go well, this will not be something you will be required to wear too much longer.”

“Doesn’t much matter to me, but I appreciate the gesture of gettin’ it removed.” Jazz took hold of Soundwave’s hand and kissed the palm. “Thing is, at your side, I feel free.”

Rumble groaned. “That was beyond horrible.”

Looking over, Jazz stifled a laugh. Rumble was messily painted in dark blue and Frenzy had white paint on his chest and arms. They looked ridiculous.

“Rumble, Frenzy, explain the purpose of paint on your plating,” Soundwave demanded.

Jazz sobered a little at that and shook his head. “I don’t think you really want to–”

“We were role-playing, like Jazz said to,” Frenzy said.

“I’m you and Frenzy is Jazz,” Rumble explained, grinning. “And frag, did we just have a good time.” They both snickered at that.

Soundwave looked at Jazz, then back at the painted pair. “Clean up your plating and the living area by the time we return.”

“Awww!” They both protested at once.

“This state of disarray is unacceptable,” Soundwave said, managing to sound stern despite his monotone.

“Fine. We’ll clean it up,” Rumble said as he scowled.

Soundwave and Jazz exited the apartment and took the lift up a level. When they arrived at Thundercracker’s apartment, Jazz tensed a little, wondering if Bluestreak was still upset with him or not. He’d been understanding about the whole thing, but Jazz suspected he’d hurt him pretty badly.

The door opened to a red seeker, and Jazz was confused as they walked inside. After a moment of staring at the seeker’s face, he realized it was Thundercracker. He hardly looked like himself at all.

“Your disguise should be sufficient,” Soundwave said as he looked Thundercracker up and down.

“I should hope so,” Thundercracker replied as he handed off a small device. “I’m told you hold this to the collar and press the button. It will short out the workings.”

Soundwave nodded and then turned to Jazz, pressing the item into his hand. “I realize your sub-space is disabled, but hold this close and conceal as much as possible.”

“Got it,” Jazz replied, fingering the small item as he looked at it.

“Oh, you have a visitor. Hello there Commander Soundwave,” Tremorwave said as he appeared from an adjoining hallway.

Soundwave nodded a polite hello.

“How is Bumblebee? Will you be taking him back for further repairs?” Thundercracker asked as the medic walked up.

“Bee? Bee is here?” Jazz asked. When had he gotten here? Where had he been before? Jazz had a million questions running all at once through his processor.

“I can’t take him back with me right now. I have a patient in bad shape back at the compound taking up most of my time. And for now, since he’s unable to use his legs, it’s best he stay here where he’ll be better looked after,” Tremorwave explained.

“I see. When your time frees up, please let me know,” Thundercracker replied.

“I will,” Tremorwave replied.

Soundwave glanced at Jazz, and they exchanged looks. As if reading his mind, Soundwave turned his attention to Thundercracker. “May Jazz visit with your new Autobot for a few minutes?”

Regarding Jazz for a moment, Thundercracker shrugged a shoulder. “Not too long. We need to get going.”

Jazz took off down the corridor. He jogged into the private area where Mirage and Bluestreak lived, finding them on a couch with Bumblebee sitting between them. “Holy slag, Bee!”

“Jazz?” Bluestreak sounded confused.

“Hey, Jazz. You look good,” Bumblebee said, smiling.

Jazz wished he could say the same for his old friend, but Bumblebee was a mess. Broken helm horns, dented and scarred plating and he looked so worn and tired. “I’m so glad to see you’re still around.” Jazz crouched down in front of him and took hold of one of his hands, squeezing it.

“Why are you here?” Mirage asked. “This isn’t your visiting day.”

“I’m helpin’ out with rescuing Skyfire,” Jazz replied.

“Helping? How?” Bluestreak asked.

“Well, the plan is Soundwave will keep Screamer occupied while we’re at the detailing parlour and I’ll sneak in and disable Skyfire’s collar with this thing.” Jazz held up the small device. “Then I’ll help him slip away and hand him off to Thundercracker.”

“Jazz…” Bluestreak shook his head. “You could be caught. There’s no telling what they’d do to you if that happened. You can’t help them like that!”

Sadness fluttered inside Jazz’s spark at Bluestreak’s reaction. “I’ll be fine.”

“It is risky. And I honestly don’t like the idea of any of you putting yourselves in so much danger,” Mirage said with a frown.

“But, they want to save Skyfire. That’s worth it, isn’t it? To make sure another one of us is saved?” Bumblebee asked, gaze pinging between all of them.

Jazz smiled. “It is to me.”

Bluestreak frowned and looked away, doorwings low against his back.

“Well, I just had to stop by and see you, Bee.” Jazz got back to his feet, reluctantly letting go of the smaller black hand.

“You come by and visit a lot?” Bumblebee asked.

“Yeah, I normally come by ‘bout twice a week,” Jazz replied.

The intercom crackled on. “We need to go. Jazz please return to the front entrance,” Thundercracker said.

“Gotta go. I promise I’ll be safe. See you all soon,” Jazz said, half-smiling.

“You better be,” Mirage said with a raised optic ridge.

“See you,” Bumblebee said as he waved.

Bluestreak didn’t look up.

Jazz frowned a little as he finally walked out. He glanced over his shoulder from the hallway, seeing Bluestreak start to sob and Mirage and Bumblebee move in to comfort him. He knew he’d hurt Bluestreak, but had no concept of how badly until now. Sobered by the consequences of his actions, Jazz sadly frowned as he returned to Soundwave and Thundercracker.

Soundwave canted his head. “Jazz, are you alright?”

Jazz quickly slipped on a smile and nodded. “I’m good to go. Let’s do this thing.”

…

The Rescue-

 

It was humiliating being dragged around on leads through the merchant district. Skyfire kept catching mechs they passed staring at the three of them as they made their way to the detailing parlour. Starscream seemed to like the gawking, holding his head high. Red Alert just sort of stared off into nothingness, which was a skill Skyfire envied. Maybe in time he’d be able to do the same.

Stepping into the front area of the parlour, Skyfire was momentarily distracted from his embarrassing situation when he caught sight of Jazz standing just next to Soundwave. Jazz glanced at him and flashed a bright smile. Skyfire smiled a little in response, surprised to see how well kept Jazz looked.

“Soundwave, what are you doing here?” Starscream asked, sounding annoyed.

“Detailing requested for Autobot and arrangement for a soak in the oil baths for myself,” Soundwave intoned.

“Same for me,” Starscream replied, flicking his wings. “I have a meeting with Megatron later and he wants to meet my newest slave. You know how he likes a shine on them.”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave replied.

“And indulging in a nice oil bath will get my joints nice and loosened up,” Starscream added.

Soundwave nodded in reply.

“We can take all your slaves into the special detailing area,” said the host as he gestured to one of the doorways. “If it’s alright, we’d like to put them all together. Unless you’d prefer they remain separated?”

Starscream scowled as he glanced at Jazz.

“I see no issue with sharing a room,” Soundwave replied.

“Keh, fine. Put them together. All that really matters is that they’re shining when you’re done,” Starscream said as he handed the leads to the host.

“Of course. They’ll look pristine,” the host replied.

Skyfire walked beside Red Alert while Jazz trailed along behind them. They were taken into a room with five detailing chairs. The host removed the leads and gestured to the chairs. “Take a seat.”

They each sat down in one, but Skyfire shifted uncomfortably in his due to his wings being pinched in from the chair arms.

“Hm, never had a flier quite so large,” the host said. “Just make do by turning sort of sideways, hm?”

Shifting at an angle, Skyfire fit a little better. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, though, with one leg not quite on the seat.

The host exited, and Skyfire looked past Red Alert to Jazz in the next chair over. “Glad to see you alive,” Skyfire said in a hushed voice.

“Same goes for you, big guy,” Jazz replied.

“Shouldn’t talk yet,” Red Alert warned. “Wait until after.”

Three detailers came into the room, one for each. They wasted no time opening the cabinets and setting up the bottles of waxes and getting out their tools. Soon the hum of buffers filled the air, and Skyfire winced at every touch to his plating. The drug in his morning energon was starting to kick in, and despite the businesslike touches and uses of inhibitors on his wings, his array was starting to burn. By how much Red Alert was squirming, it was clear they were both suffering the effects. Jazz by contrast seemed relaxed and calm. A part of Skyfire deeply envied him.

Once the buffing was done, they were each carefully touched up with chamois cloths until they practically glowed.

“Both your owners are still in the oil baths. Wait here until they are ready to pick you up,” one of the detailers said as they cleaned up and put all the supplies away.

Once the last one disappeared out the door, Skyfire sagged against the uncomfortable chair.

“We can talk now,” Red Alert said, slipping off his chair and moving over to sit in Skyfire’s lap. “Mine’s burning. Is yours?”

Skyfire gently traced his fingers down Red Alert’s face as he nodded.

Red Alert whined a little, not caring that Jazz being here with them. “Maybe we can just touch a little, to make it stop? But be careful of our finish?”

“Red, we shouldn’t,” Skyfire quietly replied.

“Hope you’re ready to get the frag outta here, Skyfire,” Jazz said as he got off his chair and pulled a small black, hand-held item out from under the cushion.

Glancing over, Skyfire frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Jazz walked over and pressed the device in his hand to Skyfire’s collar. There was a zap of energy then nothing. “This thing just disabled the collar. Now it’s time to escape.”

Staring at Jazz with bright optics, Skyfire shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“We don’t have much time, so let’s get going.” Jazz gestured toward the door.

“Wait– _You’re_ the one rescuing me?” Skyfire asked.

“Sort of. I’m first in the chain. Gotta hand you off to the next mech, then he’ll get you to the compound,” Jazz explained quickly. “We don’t have much time. Come on!”

“You’re leaving me alone?” Red Alert asked.

Looking at the smaller mech still in his lap, Skyfire shook his head. “No, I’m not going to leave you alone.” He looked back at Jazz. “Use that thing on his collar, too. We’re both going.”

“Uh...” Jazz looked between them and frowned. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”

Red Alert curled against Skyfire and grasped at his chest. “Don’t leave me alone. Please. _Please…_ ”

“It’s part of ‘the plan’ now. Do it, or I’ll stay right here,” Skyfire replied.

Jazz wavered then gave in, using the device on Red Alert’s collar, too. “This is not the plan, and if the next mech in the chain refuses, I can’t do anything ‘bout it.”

“That’s fine,” Skyfire replied. “Either way, we’re leaving. My wings work.” Skyfire got up, and Red Alert held his hand tightly as Jazz led them out of the room and partway down the hall.

A red-colored seeker stepped out of one of the other detailing rooms and frowned. “Skyfire only,” he hissed in a whisper.

“Too late. Already used this thing on Red,” Jazz said as he pressed the device into the red seeker’s hand. “Skyfire won’t go without him.”

“For Pit’s sake,” the red seeker glared at Skyfire. “You better be the amazing mind he thinks you are. Come with me.”

They were ushered down the hallway and out a back door into the alleyway. The red seeker lifted a cover for a run off tunnel and pointed. “Down into the tunnel. We need some distance from this place.”

Skyfire nodded and went down first. He then helped Red Alert down, and the mysterious rescuer came down last, putting the cover back in place.

“It’s burning so much,” Red Alert whimpered.

Skyfire sympathized, his own array was in desperate need of release, but he pushed the discomfort aside in favor of regaining their freedom. “Mine, too. But we need to get out of here first.”

“Are you unwell?” the red seeker asked, glancing between them. “Should I have a medic on hand at the compound?”

“It’s a drug to keep our interface arrays online at all times. The only relief comes from overloading,” Skyfire explained, faceplates heating a little with shame.

“I’m sorry,” the red seeker replied with a frown. “You’ll be able to detox in peace when I get you to safety. Follow me.” The red seeker then led the way through tunnel system with Skyfire and Red Alert in tow.

“Megatron won’t like us being dirty,” Red Alert said as the sludge splashed up on their legs.

“You won’t need to worry about him anymore,” the red seeker said as they came to split in the tunnels and he took them to the right. “Only a little further and we’ll come out in another alley. Then we can fly to the compound. Your wings work, right?”

“Yes. And I can carry Red Alert,” Skyfire replied.

“Good,” the red seeker replied.

At the end of the tunnel was another cover. The red seeker pushed it aside, and flew up and out. Skyfire grasped Red Alert tightly and initiated his jets for the first time since he’d been at the medic’s and gently lifted them up and out of the tunnel. Landing next to the opening, he looked around. They were in a back alley, but the buildings here were bombed out and looked uninhabited.

“This is the tricky part,” the red seeker said. “I need a confirmation ping that the camera system is shifted elsewhere, then we’re going to have to take off and fly at top speed before it sweeps back around.”

Skyfire nodded as Red Alert clung tightly to him, burying his face in his chest. Staring at their rescuer’s face, Skyfire narrowed his optics. “Is that you, Thundercracker?” he suddenly asked. He’d known the seeker before the war, briefly crossing paths with him in civilian life in Vos.

“Recognized me, hm?” Thundercracker asked with a small smile.

“Not until now,” Skyfire replied, gently caressing Red Alert’s back to comfort him.

Thundercracker glanced at the smaller mech. “Taking him along wasn’t part of our plan.”

“Will he be unwelcome?” Skyfire asked.

“No, it’s not that. Starscream is attached to him. Losing one of you will be bad, but both–” Thundercracker shook his head. “I don’t know how he might react.”

“He’s a twisted shadow of who I once knew.” Skyfire hugged Red Alert in his arms. “And Red has suffered more than enough. He deserves better than a life trapped with Starscream.”

Thundercracker sadly frowned as he nodded. Suddenly his optics brightened. “I have the go ahead. We have to go as fast as possible. The cameras will only be turned away for ten minutes.”

Skyfire nodded. “Red, you hold tight to me, don’t let go.”

“Okay,” Red Alert replied.

Folding his arms around the smaller mech, Skyfire took to the air when Thundercracker did. They flew as fast as possible over an open, desolate area which had once been a thriving area of Iacon. In the distance a walled in compound came into view. As they got closer, Skyfire could see a domed forcefield that protected the buildings inside the walls. On approach, the dome dissipated and Thundercracker flew them right to the front entrance of the compound.

Feet touching down, Skyfire looked up just in time to see the forcefield go back up. Whose home was this? Who had been so desperate to free him that he’d risked so much?

“Where are we?” Red Alert asked, looking around while still clutching at Skyfire.

“Let’s go in,” Thundercracker said with a small smile.

The double doors opened and they were led into the foyer of the compound where Shockwave and Prowl both stood waiting.

“Welcome to my home, Skyfire.” Shockwave stepped forward and canted his head as he looked at Red Alert. “And Red.”

This was who had orchestrated his rescue? Skyfire wondered why, but he knew answers would come soon enough. “I have you to thank?”

“Myself, Thundercracker, Soundwave and Jazz all played their parts in freeing you from Starscream. I’m sure you are both exhausted from the ordeal. Prowl will show you to a private room and fill you in on the situation here,” Shockwave replied.

Hugging Red Alert against his side, Skyfire bowed his head respectfully. “Thank you for helping us.”

“You are both very welcome,” Shockwave replied.

Giving Red a funny look, Prowl stepped forward. “We have a space set up for you, but you’ll need to share for now.”

“That’s fine,” Skyfire replied, glad to see yet another of his comrades in such good condition.

Prowl warmly smiled. “Follow me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath and fallout next time...


	14. After the Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each of them face different emotional obstacles on their way to recovering their freedom.

Leaving Bluestreak wasn’t easy, but Mirage knew Thundercracker would need help removing the paint as soon as possible. He paused in the doorway to the berth room, gazing at Bluestreak curled up next to Bumblebee in their large berth lightly recharging after his emotional breakdown earlier.

Bumblebee shooed him with a wave of his hand. “I may not be able to walk around, but I can look after Blue,” he whispered.

Mirage nodded and smiled, then left his companions on their own.

Arriving at Thundercracker’s room, he knocked. The door opened and Thundercracker greeted Mirage with a bright smile. “Hello there.”

“I figured you might need a hand removing your disguise paint?” Mirage said as he entered.

“Most definitely,” Thundercracker replied.

“So things went to plan?” Mirage asked as they entered his private washrack.

“Yes. Soundwave is dealing with the fallout right now,” Thundercracker replied, pulling a strong solvent off the shelf.

Mirage took the bottle from him, and poured some into a cloth. Thundercracker flipped the switch for the sprayer and they both set to work bringing back his signature blue and wash the red away. Snapping the inhibitors in place, Mirage worked to clean his lover’s wings.

“There’s my handsome flier,” Mirage commented as the blue was once again revealed.

Thundercracker chuckled a little at that as he removed the paint from his arms. “You would let me know if something was amiss with you or the others, wouldn’t you?”

Mirage paused mid-motion and looked up. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just–” Thundercracker frowned a little. “Jazz seemed upset after seeing you all earlier.”

“Oh,” Mirage replied as he focused on the cloth stained with red in his hands. “Bluestreak still has feelings for him. Nothing terrible happened, so you don’t need to worry. It was an emotionally charged interaction is all.”

“Should I cancel the visitations?” Thundercracker asked. “The last thing I ever wanted was to make Bluestreak unhappy with the arrangement.”

Mirage gazed at Thundercracker and smiled. “No, I think it will be alright eventually. Maybe a short break in visits would be good, but I think Bee would like to see Jazz now and again. They’re old friends.”

Thundercracker nodded. “If there is anything at all I can do to help, please let me know.”

“I certainly will,” Mirage replied.

…

“Gone! Just gone! What the frag happened?” Starscream shrieked as he turned his fury on Jazz. “You were in the room with them, what happened?”

Soundwave stepped between them, protecting Jazz with his larger mass while glancing at him. “Jazz, answer the question,” he intoned.

“The two of them got up and left right after the detailers walked out. Frag if I know what they were doin’,” Jazz replied, putting on his most innocent look.

“Who else was getting detailed?” Starscream yelled as his attention shifted to the host.

“W-we had one other client, a red seeker,” the host replied, looking terrified of Starscream.

“What was his name? I’ll rip his wings off and stuff them piece by piece up his tailpipe until he tells me where they are!” Starscream shouted.

Jazz had never seen a mech _this_ angry before, and that included Ratchet when he was on a tear. Starscream’s wings were quivering and he was so upset he looked like he might literally pop a gasket.

“Um, let me check the logs,” the host said, quickly scrolling through the list of appointments on his datapad. “His name was Flamewar.”

“This Flamewar is going to pay for taking _my_ slaves,” Starscream said, his voice edged with a sharp growl.

“What proof is there of this mech taking your Autobots?” Soundwave asked. “Perhaps Autobots fled on their own?”

“Keh, then why didn’t Swindle’s ping show their locations? There’s no way they left on their own and somehow disabled their collars, too!” Starscream yelled. “No. Someone took them! And he was _only_ mech with access!”

Jazz internally smiled, since in truth _he_ was the one with access.

Enforcers soon arrived on scene, and the detailing parlour was overwhelmed with mechs swarming everywhere. Jazz pressed close to Soundwave, hoping they could leave before being detained.

“Could you two please step in here to answer some questions?” one of the enforcers asked.

No such luck it seemed.

Soundwave nodded and he didn’t seem in too much of a hurry to flee the scene. Jazz knew in his head that staying like this was a countermeasure to ensure Starscream didn’t suspect them, but being around all these mechs was making Jazz tense.

Following Soundwave, they were led to one of the private detailing rooms and grilled with a series of questions. Jazz give the enforcer the same story he’d told Starscream: Skyfire and Red Alert both left the room without explanation. After what felt like an eternity and even more questions that he gave the same answers to, they were finally released.

“Commander Starscream, I am sorry for the loss of your Autobots. I hope they will be located soon,” Soundwave said, pausing on their way out.

“Better put a lead on yours, or someone might take him, too,” Starscream replied a snippy voice.

Soundwave nodded. “Sound advice.” He then made a show in front of Starscream of putting a lead on Jazz’s collar before they walked out of the parlour.

It was humiliating being led through the streets on a leash. Jazz seethed as he fell in step just behind Soundwave. How dare he put this lead on his collar! After everything they’d shared, everything they’d been through, how could he do this? Even if it was show for Starscream, why was it still on now? They were blocks away from the parlour.

They entered the apartment building and stepped on the lift. The lead remained locked on Jazz’s collar and held in Soundwave’s hand. It wasn’t until they entered the apartment itself that Soundwave deigned to remove it.

“Frag you!” Jazz yelled as he was freed.

Soundwave looked shocked by his ire. “Jazz?”

“Don’t you _ever_ put that leash on me again!” Jazz whirled around and went to what had once been his room, slamming the door closed as he slid it shut. There was no lock, but he’d made his point clear. He sat down on the berth and buried his face in his hands. Tears he hadn’t expected pooled on his optics beneath his visor. Being led around like that had been one of the most undignified things he’d ever experienced. Right up there with being a frag toy for Megatron’s pleasure.

The door cracked open. “Jazz, please do not be angry,” Soundwave said, peering in.

“You have no idea,” Jazz hissed. “I stupidly thought you got it. But clearly you haven’t got a fraggin’ clue.”

The door opened wider and Soundwave stepped inside, closing it behind him. “Explain so I will understand? Please?”

Jazz mirthlessly laughed. “How can you not understand it’s humiliating of bein’ dragged around by a fragging leash like I’m a pet turbo fox?”

“The use of a lead was for Starscream’s benefit. Humiliation not intended,” Soundwave replied.

“Intended or not, it _was_ ,” Jazz spat back.

Soundwave cowed his head. “I am very sorry.”

“Why didn’t you take it off until we were back in the apartment anyway? Once we were a few blocks away you could’ve taken it off. Or you could have shown more spinal unit back there and not put on me in the first place! Instead you just kiss that sick fragger’s aft to keep up appearances!” Jazz yelled, angry and hurt.

“These options didn’t occur to me. What can I do to rectify the mistake?” Soundwave asked, wringing his hands together, obviously distressed and unsure what to do.  

It was a little strange to see a usually stoic mech look so upset. Jazz frowned and shook his head. “I dunno.”

“I want you to be happy, but fail at that goal,” Soundwave said, sounding confused.

Jazz sighed and rubbed his face with his hands for a moment. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ‘happy’, Sounders. Besides, it’s not something you can just fix.” He looked up at Soundwave, and sadly frowned. “Think I’ve reached the end of my already thin rope and snapped.” He looked away and dimmed his optics. “I hurt Blue. Really made a fragged up mess of that whole thing. Then seeing Red again, I wanted to hurl my energon right there after what me an’ Prowl did to him. And then you put that stupid fraggin’ leash on me…” Jazz felt the tears return, and reached up, removing his visor so he could wipe them away. “How am I supposed to keep hopin’ things will eventually work out when things just seem to get worse?”

To his surprise, Soundwave came over and sat down next to him, putting a comforting arm around his shoulders. “My apologizes for adding to your burden with my thoughtless action.”

Jazz leaned into Soundwave, resting his head on his broad shoulder as he fingered his visor in his hands. “Not gonna say it’ okay, cause it wasn’t. But, I’ll get over it.”

Soundwave nodded and retracted his mask to kiss the tip of one of his helm horns.

Despite his sour mood, the sweetness of Soundwave’s kiss made Jazz’s spark do that funny flutter thing again. They sat in silence for a while, just being with one another. It had a calming effect on Jazz as he felt his jumbled emotions start to smooth out some.

The sound of something crashing to the floor in another room broke the spell, though.

“Cassettes causing trouble again,” Soundwave said with a slight frown.

Turning his head to look up at Soundwave without his visor, Jazz half-smiled. “They’re a bunch of little troublemakers. Dunno why you put up with ‘em, really. But then, not sure why you put up with me, either.”

Soundwave gently traced his fingertips just under one of Jazz’s optics. “You are different. Kind to me when others ridicule and... you are very beautiful.”

Jazz half-smiled at that. “Who knew you were such a flirt, huh?”

Soundwave smiled, then dimmed his visor. “Will you forgive me, even if you wish to remain upset with me?”

Twisting in Soundwave’s loose grasp, Jazz stretched up to ghost his lips against Soundwave’s exposed ones. “I forgive you.”

Pressing forward, they kissed. Lip only at first, but Jazz couldn't resist the urge for more, slipping his glossa into Soundwave’s heated mouth. Another crashing sound cut their lovely kiss short, though.

Soundwave looked at the door, then re-engaged his mask. “I must check on the cassettes.”

“Little fraggers,” Jazz mumbled.

“Perhaps, but they are mine to look after,” Soundwave replied.

Jazz frowned a little. “Just like me.”

Cupping Jazz’s face with one hand, Soundwave gazed into his optics. “No, you are not like them. And I will strive to treat you as an equal moving forward.”

“Sounders…” Jazz felt that flutter in his spark grow even stronger. He'd felt it with Blue, too, but not this intensely. “That means a lot to me. Thanks.”

Soundwave nodded, then kissed the middle of his forehelm before standing up. Jazz got to his feet and followed Soundwave out to help with whatever cleanup might be needed.

It was starting to make more sense why Soundwave cared for the cassette bots. Behind his stoic, cold front was a deeply compassionate mech that accepted everyone around them as they were, even mechs like Starscream and Megatron. Jazz was his opposite in that way, railing against injustice. What they shared in common was a desire to protect those around them and the ability to manipulate or lie without a second thought to do what they thought was right. In a strange way Jazz could see how well he and Soundwave complimented one another's personalities.

...

It had been a shock to see a hidden starship underneath Shockwave's compound. But Skyfire's awe was mitigated by the burn in his interface array. To Red Alert's credit he didn't complain about his own despite his squirming. In fact, once Prowl took charge of them Red had gone quiet.

They were taken on board and Prowl showed them to a nice room in the habitation suites. There was regular energon in a pitcher waiting for them on the berthside table with two glasses, which Red Alert wasted no time partaking in. Skyfire smiled a little as he watched his smaller companion gulp down most a glass worth in mere seconds.

"I know you both are currently under the influence of powerful drugs," Prowl said as he looked at Skyfire. "I will check in on you every couple hours as you detox. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask. Obviously with only a handful of us here we are living in this wing of the habitation suites and working on repairs in the engine room. So check the lounge at the end of the hall or Level Delta if you're looking for any of us."

"We will," Skyfire replied. "Thank you."

Prowl and Red Alert's gazes met for only a moment. Doorwings lowering, Prowl quickly looked away and forced a smile as he glanced back at Skyfire. "I'll let you be for now." He then quickly left, door sliding shut behind him.

"Was it just me, or was he acting a bit oddly?" Skyfire asked.

"Wasn't you. Him and Jazz fragged me," Red Alert replied, setting his empty glass down.

"They _what_?" Skyfire was shocked by Red Alert's casual comment.

"Megatron made them. They didn't want to, but they did feel really good." Red Alert squirmed a little where he stood.

Skyfire frowned, not thrilled to know why Prowl was being so awkward around Red Alert. It also explained Jazz's hesitation to free him during the escape, too. An issue to be dealt with when they were no longer under the influence of these infernal drugs.

Red Alert rubbed his panel. "It hurts."

"Mine too," Skyfire replied with a frown.

Red Alert closed the space between them and threw his arms around Skyfire, peering up at him imploringly. "Can we interface? _Please?_ "

Skyfire gently brushed his fingers down Red Alert's cheek. "If that's what you want."

"It is," Red Alert replied, clutching at Skyfire's plating.

There was no explaining the attachment Skyfire had so quickly formed to Red Alert, but it felt real and very strong. He scooped Red Alert up in his arms and sat down on the berth with his back to the wall for support. Red Alert settled with his legs spread over Skyfire’s lap, gyrating his hips and rubbing their heated panels together with a moan.

“What would you like to do?” Skyfire asked, large hands moving down Red Alert’s sides slowly.

“I really want to ride you, but I need stretching,” Red Alert replied. “I’ll overload hard enough that way to make it stop.”

Skyfire had been careful not to spike after their first encounter, but Starscream had forced them to a handful of times as a warm up for himself before he’d shove off Red and ride Skyfire himself. As long as he worked the smaller valve with his fingers to get him ready, there had been no discomfort. Slipping a hand under Red Alert’s aft, he lifted him up. Red Alert leaned against Skyfire, pressing his face into the crook of Skyfire’s neck as his panel retracted. Skyfire rubbed the outer rim first, then slowly pressed one finger inside.

Red Alert hissed and shivered.

“Did that hurt?” Skyfire asked, stilling.

“The burn is really strong,” Red Alert replied. “Keep going. I’ll be okay.”

With as much tenderness as he could muster, Skyfire pumped his finger in and out until Red Alert stopped hissing and began moaning.

“More…” Red Alert’s whole body shivered.

A second finger joined the first, and Red Alert began to gyrate again, pushing himself down on Skyfire’s fingers.

Turned on by Red Alert’s eagerness and the infernal drugs, Skyfire’s panel snapped open. Red Alert wasted no time, reaching between them to tug on his already hard spike.

“Slag,” Skyfire moaned.

“You can stretch me more now,” Red Alert said in a breathless voice.

Three of his large fingers mimicked the side of his spike as he slid them into the tightness of Red Alert’s valve. The mesh walls trembled and squeezed his fingers as he parted them a little inside him before pulling out and repeating the same action again. Red Alert moaned even louder, and Skyfire winced a little, hoping this starship was well insulated for sound.

Skyfire nuzzled one of Red Alert’s helm horns as desire and affection swirled inside his his spark for this mech. It was dangerous to get attached and he knew that in his processor, but he couldn’t help how his spark felt. Red deserved so much more than what he’d ended up enduring, and it felt like he was the only one who could see past the surface to Red’s wounded core.

“Inside me... you can go inside me now.” Red Alert batted at Skyfire’s hand and he nodded, placing both of his larger hands on the smaller mech’s hips, helping to guide him down over his spike standing at full attention.

They both moaned in unison as Red Alert impaled himself. Tight, hot, and so slicked, Skyfire held himself still for a moment, enjoying the throb of their arrays linked together.

Red Alert whined. “You feel just like–” Cutting himself off, he ducked his head down, pressing his face against Skyfire’s shoulder. “ _Need you.._."

Hands helped lift Red Alert and lower him down, as Skyfire thrust over and over into that delicious heat between spread legs. Red Alert was soon nothing more than a whimpering mass in his lap, moaning and clinging to Skyfire as they quickly reached the goal line, overloading one right after the other. Red Alert had climaxed first, crying out sharply and shuddering as his valve clamped down on Skyfire’s spike. Groaning loudly, Skyfire joined him, pleasure cascading through his systems as his spike pumped into Red Alert for what felt like a never ending moment.

Collapsing against Skyfire, Red Alert softly whimpered as aftershocks of pleasure continued to pulse through him. Each time his already tight valve constricted with a tremor, Skyfire would softly moan and deposit just a little more as a flare of pleasure skittered through his array.

They stayed locked together and unmoving for several minutes. Skyfire sighed as he finally felt the haze from the drugs begin to lift some. He knew it could take days before the drug stopped inflicting it’s insidious effects on them, but for now the painful burn was finally at bay. He kissed Red Alert’s horn and rubbed the middle of his back.

“You feel better?” Skyfire quietly asked.

Red Alert nodded against his shoulder. “I’m tired.”

“I am, too. It’s been a long day. Let’s get some rest, hm?,” Skyfire replied.

Red Alert lifted himself off Skyfire’s spike, fluid trickling from his valve and down his inner thigh. “I’m so messy and dirty.” He glanced at his grey-stained feet from their escape through the run-off tunnels.

“We can clean up after some rest,” Skyfire replied, too exhausted to even consider spending time standing in the washrack right now.

They shifted around on the berth, and Skyfire laid back with Red Alert curled up at his side. He gazed at his companion and smiled a little, so glad he wasn’t alone here, and relieved to know Red Alert wasn’t going to be Starscream’s toy to play with anymore. In no time, Red Alert’s optics went dark and his frame softly vibrated in recharge. Seduced by the allure himself, Skyfire offlined his optics and joined Red for some well-earned rest.

…

Sideswipe couldn’t help himself, pushing a solvent soaked cloth over Prowl’s aft and between his legs in the washrack. Prowl made an undignified sound and flicked his doorwings as he shot Sideswipe a warning look.

Sunstreaker glanced up from his own washing, then quickly looked away, stepping under the sprayer to rinse off.

They’d moved into one of the larger officer quarters on the ship, complete with an ample-sized berth and private washrack. It had taken them almost two weeks to get just this small section of the ship habitable, but it had been worth it for the extra space and added privacy they’d lacked before.

It had also been a couple weeks since Sunstreaker started staying with them. His brother had shied away each time Sideswipe tried to push for anything more than kissing, and he’d rebuffed most of Prowl’s very timid attempts to be more physical. Sideswipe missed interfacing, and it was getting harder to contain himself.

“I promised Smokes I’d watch some old movie with him, so I’ll see you guys later,” Sunstreaker said as he stepped out of the stall and dried himself off.

“What movie?” Sideswipe asked, trying not to sound hurt by his brother bailing.

“ _Rise of the Rust Droves_ , I think,” Sunstreaker replied with a shrug. “Supposed to be a scary movie.”

“Enjoy yourself,” Prowl replied, not showing any emotion at all.

“See you,” Sunstreaker said, tossing the cloth over the rack to dry and leaving.

Prowl’s doorwings lowered the moment the door snapped shut with a soft ping in the other room. “I feel I’m failing with him.”

“Pfft, it’s not you. It’s him. He’s being-” Sideswipe paused looking for a good word.

“Distant? Cold?” Prowl offered, his white fingers trailing over Sideswipe’s chest, drawing a line through the suds.

“Weird.” Sideswipe smiled a little in response to Prowl’s touch. “Even when we were fighting all the time forever ago, we still ‘faced like crazy. Pulling away from being touched isn’t like him.”

“But, Smokescreen is often physically affectionate with him and he doesn’t shy away,” Prowl pointed out.

Sideswipe sighed, his smile fading away. “Yeah, I know. What’s messed up about that is seeing Ironhide look like a kicked turbo puppy when they get like that.”

Prowl huffed air from his intakes. “This is quite a disaster, isn’t it? I don’t know how to fix it.”

Gently cupping Prowl’s chin, Sideswipe leaned down and kissed him sweetly. “You don’t fix it. We just wait for things to right themselves.”

“And what if they don’t?” Prowl asked, staring deeply into Sideswipe’s optics.

“Then frag ‘em all. You and me will enjoy ourselves,” Sideswipe replied with a lop-sided grin.

“When you say ‘enjoy’, you mean interface?” Prowl asked, coy smile curling his lips.

“Frag yeah,” Sideswipe replied. “Speaking of which… How ‘bout we try it against the wall in here?”

“I prefer the comfort a berth,” Prowl replied, taking a slow step backward.

Before Sideswipe worked out what Prowl was doing, he flicked his doorwings at just the right angle to splash the running water at Sideswipe in a rare moment of playfulness. Sideswipe laughed, grabbing for him, but missing as the Praxian ducked his outstretched arms. Sideswipe then quickly spun around to try and catch his elusive lover. They chased each other, splashing the water at one another until Sideswipe finally pinned Prowl against a corner of the stall.

“Got you now, copbot,” Sideswipe said before mouthing Prowl’s chevron.

“And now that you have me, what will you do exactly?” Prowl asked, his voice hitching slightly as Sideswipe rimmed his thumb over a headlight.

“I lay you down on the berth and make you overload so hard you won’t be able to stand again until tomorrow,” Sideswipe threatened with seductive growl to his voice.

Sliding his arms around Sideswipe’s shoulders, Prowl canted his head and smiled. “Sounds lovely.”

“Been so long,” Sideswipe said just before their mouths met in a deep, needy kiss.

Prowl gasped as the kiss broke, dazed-looking and so beautiful. Sideswipe loved these moments when Prowl let his guard down for him. He wished his brother could see him this way, then he’d understand how amazing Prowl really was. But when they were in each other’s presence, Prowl’s walls went right back up and Sunstreaker carefully held himself at a distance. Sideswipe didn’t know how to bridge the gap for them, and in his spark knew it was up to them to resolve.

“You’re so handsome without your collar,” Prowl said after a moment, fingers brushing over his bare neck cables.

“So are you,” Sideswipe replied. “That movie won’t last forever…” He flipped the lever to turn the water off, and took Prowl by the hand, leading him out of the washrack.

“We are both still dripping wet and not clean,” Prowl pointed out, glancing at the trail of suds and water left in their wake.

“Don’t care.” Sideswipe scooped Prowl up and laid him on the berth before crawling over top of him. “Need you more than I need a wash up. Besides, we’re gonna need another pass through there when we’re done, anyway.”

Prowl cupped Sideswipe’s cheek and smiled up at him. “We are, hm?”

Sideswipe nodded. “Frag yeah.”

“Not that I want to put a damper on our alone time, but I will need to stop in to check on Skyfire and Red Alert in about an hour,” Prowl said, wrapping his legs around Sideswipe’s hips.

“A mission objective I’m happy to work within, _sir,_ ” Sideswipe replied with a grin as he rubbed their closed panels together.

Shaking his head, Prowl chuckled. “If that’s the game you’d like to play, then I order you to ‘face me, my lovely warrior.”

“Yes, sir!” Sideswipe replied, laughing.

…

This wasn’t exactly how Sunstreaker envisioned hanging out with Smokescreen while watching a movie. He’d secretly hoped for some affectionate cuddling with the one mech here that he trusted most here. Much to his disappointment, Ironhide and Smokescreen were sitting together on one end of the couch, and he was alone at the other end. Ironfist had also joined them, sitting in the nearby recliner with his mask retracted so he could stuff his mouth with energon goodies he’d found in the main refectory storage area.

Just after the introduction scene of the movie, Smokescreen scooted even closer to Ironhide. Smiling a little, Ironhide and put his arm around Smokescreen, holding him against his side. Sunstreaker frowned and looked back at the vid screen, fighting to urge to loudly sigh. Smokescreen had mentioned he was staying with Ironhide at night so he could recharge, but clearly things had changed from ‘friends’ to ‘more than friends’ recently between the two of them.

After a few more minutes, Sunstreaker decided he didn’t want to stay. He got to his feet and Ironhide grabbed the remote to pause the movie.

“I’m gonna go,” Sunstreaker said, feeling awkward and out of place.

“Why? The movie just started,” Smokescreen asked with bright optics.

“Just not in the mood, I guess. Thanks, though.” Sunstreaker took off before anyone tried to plead for him stay.

He walked out of the barracks area and down the hall to the lift. He didn’t know where he was going exactly, but he knew he couldn’t stay in the lounge and returning to the room with Sideswipe and Prowl held no appeal, either. Stepping on, his self-loathing took firm hold as he punched the button to take him to level theta.

Smokescreen didn’t need him anymore, and his brother and Prowl were happy together, so what was the point of his existing? He was just a waste of space and fuel. Stepping off, he walked to the ramp that lead off the ship and took the stairs up into the main compound.

With no actual destination in mind, he wandered around inside the compound, aimlessly going from room to room. It was so large, if anyone noticed him missing, which he highly doubted, they’d be searching for him for hours if not days, especially now that he was no longer wearing that stupid collar with the locator.

About an hour later, he was still wandering. He entered a room with shelves covered in small trinkets from the Towers. Fingering a sheathed sword on a stand, he wondered if it might be sharp enough to possibly crack his spark chamber. He placed his hand on the hilt to pick it up when suddenly an alarm sounded, echoing through the compound.

He nearly jumped out of his plating at the audio-piercing noise, immediately scared his touching the weapon had turned the alarm on.

Through the window of the room he was in, he noticed what had actually triggered the alarm, though: the _Swarm._ Theywere pouring into the yard area, having apparently breached an outer wall. Staring at them through the window, he watched the mutant monsters take out the responding guard drones in moments flat. Without thinking too hard about his true motives he bolted from the room, heading down the corridor that led to the shuttle landing pad outside. The doors were open at the end, and he saw Shockwave readying more drones with heavy duty weapons.

“What are you doing here?” Shockwave asked as Sunstreaker ran up.

“I, ah–” Sunstreaker scrambled to think of an excuse. “I heard the alarm.”

Shockwave’s optic focused on him for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Fine. You will help fight them off.” He picked up a large rifle and threw it into Sunstreaker’s arms. “We can’t let them get into the buildings.”

Sunstreaker nodded. “On it.”

They exited the compound and ran across the open area toward the breach in the wall. Drones, Shockwave and himself sprayed fire at the mindless creatures moving in mass at them.

Sunstreaker grimaced and ran right into the fray, hitting them with the back end of his rifle and shooting them in the head as they gnawed and clawed at his plating. It hurt like frag, but there was something deeply satisfying about killing them. He had purpose again, even if it was temporary. This was the best he’d felt in weeks, actually. He imagined Vortex’s face as he shot them through the heads, roaring with all his anger and fury.

He was soon overwhelmed by them, though, pulled down to the ground as he felt their fangs sink into his plating and rip pieces off. He still shot at them, and writhed and kicked as hard as he could. _This isn’t such a terrible way to die_ , he thought. At least he’d go out fighting like he should have the day Optimus died.

“Sunny!”

His brother’s voice cut through the grunts and growls of the Swarm overtop of him. Sunstreaker continued to struggle, but it was getting harder. The bites in his plating were festering from acid in their mouths, and his body was shutting down on him now.

“Sunstreaker!”

Prowl? He wasn’t sure why he was surprised to hear Prowl’s voice along with his brother’s, but part of him was. The dark mass of black, purple and yellow over him parted and he saw both of them working to kill and remove the creatures.

Sideswipe grabbed Sunstreaker by the shoulders once they’d killed the whole pile and dragged him off to an open area away from the corpses. “Sunny… oh frag, oh frag!”

He must be in pretty bad shape for Sideswipe to be panicking like that. Sunstreaker felt his grasp on the waking world begin to slip.

“Ironfist, as fast as you can, I need the medical patch kit from the lab!” Prowl ordered.

Sideswipe leaned down and peppered Sunstreaker’s cheek with kisses. “Don’t you give up, you hear me?”

Optics dimming, Sunstreaker knew he was going to offline any moment. Mustering what little energy he could, he smiled. “Love you, Sides.”

“I love you, too, Sunny,” Sideswipe replied with glossy optics from held back tears.

“You will not die,” Prowl said, coming into view. “That’s an order.”

Sunstreaker would have burst out laughing at Prowl’s audacity if he wasn’t fading so fast. “So bossy,” he murmured just before the inky blackness claimed him whole. His last thoughts were a prayer to find peace at last. _Please Primus, I’m tired of suffering..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't fear! While this is a darkfic, I promise no death from the sequence of events in this chapter.


	15. Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to go sideways for the trio on the inside trying to subvert the new world order.

“I shouldn’t be taking you out so soon, but I need the regen tank,” Tremorwave said, unhooking the wires and cables from First Aid’s body with deft precision. He grabbed the jumbled mass of cabling and dragged it over the next medical table.

Turning his head, First Aid gazed at the prone form of Sunstreaker. He was covered in puncture wounds, some of which looked like they’d festered from acid, and hastily done patch work to some of his worst injuries. Tremorwave worked fast to prepare the former warrior for the tank.

Static burst from First Aid’s vocalizer when he tried to speak up and offer help, and he grimaced at the sound.

Tremorwave glanced at him with a deep frown. “You’re in bad shape, still. Don’t move and stay quiet until I have him in the tank,” he said, in an unusually sour tone.

First Aid sighed and did as he was told, settling for simply watching the talented medic work.

Tremorwave was strong for his smaller size, heaving Sunstreaker up over his shoulder and walking him to the open lift right next to the tank. Slamming his hand over the control button, the gears sprung to life and took him to the top. After some careful maneuvering, the medic slid Sunstreaker into the thick, healing liquid. He then snapped all the wires and cables into place in the top console, before taking the lift part back down. His fingers then flew over the main controls on the front of the tank, setting it up to help heal the patient within.

“You aren’t dying anytime soon if I have any say in it, Mr. Sunshine. Not after all the repairs I’ve already done to you,” Tremorwave said, his voice returning to a more light-hearted tone. Finished, he glanced at First Aid and sadly smiled. “Now as far you’re concerned, I’ll hand repair anything more I can until the tank is available again.” He walked over to First Aid and smiled down at him. “We need to sort out that vocalizer of yours, don’t we? But first thing's first! We both need fuel. Think you can stand?”

First Aid wanted to try to walk on his own and nodded. With Tremorwave’s assistance, he got to his feet and took shaky steps by leaning his entire weight against his savior.

He’d gone underground before the final battle along with several others that prefered to not be involved in combat and were tired of war and fighting. They’d survived on rations as long as they could, but when the supplies ran out, the infighting began. First Aid had run away from them, hiding in the labyrinth of tunnels and barely surviving on what small amounts of energon he could scrounge up. Most of what he’d survived on until his body shut down was the fuel in the tanks of the dead he found now and again down there. It had been bleak, and when he shut down he never imagined he’d online again.

But he had.

“Here we are,” Tremorwave said, helping him to sit down at a table in his kitchenette area. “Would you like some sweet energon? Not that I’m giving you much of a choice, since that’s all I have,” Tremorwave said, chuckling.

After drinking the fuel of his dead comrades, all other fuel tasted sweet to First Aid. Sitting down across from him, Tremorwave pushed a glass full to the brim with a bright yellow-tinted fuel then stuck a straw in it.

Letting his lower port on his mask open he happily took the straw into his mouth and sipped his serving. They enjoyed their fuel in peace as Tremorwave scrolled through information on a datapad.

“Dislocated this, corroded that, why do Decepticons think it’s acceptable to treat their slaves like drones? I have at least three of these I should tend to this afternoon.” Tremorwave sighed and frowned as he glanced at First Aid. “And I had wanted to take a better look at your vocalizer, not deal with this slag.”

First Aid had been shocked when he learned shortly after coming back online here that most of his former comrades were now enslaved.

“Well, since I’ll have to be away most of today, and you’re up and about, how about I get you that hover chair, and you look after Mr. Sunshine in the tank for me? Be sure his levels remain stable and all that?” Tremorwave offered with a bright smile.

First Aid paused drinking his fuel and nodded. He liked that Tremorwave gave him tasks to do, even if he wasn’t fully repaired yet. He’d never been comfortable with being idle for long.

“Excellent!” Tremorwave tipped up his glass, downing the remainder of his fuel. “And on my way back, I’ll pick up some energon goodies since I’ll be going past the shop.”

First Aid still couldn’t believe he’d been found so deep in those tunnels and revived by another medic. But as luck would have it, those were the areas that Tremorwave scavenged for his massive collection of parts. The first thing he planned to say once his vocalizer was fixed was ‘thank you’. For now all he could do was nod.

"Excellent. I'll go get it. Don't you move," Tremorwave said with a chuckle, early teasing.

...

Skyfire woke to the sound of Red Alert whimpering. They'd been floating in and out of consciousness, interfacing to release the buildup of charge in their arrays, fueling and then curling up to rest more since they'd arrived.

“Red?” Skyfire quietly asked.

Curling in closer, Red Alert shivered. Gazing at him, Skyfire could see he was experiencing memory feedback while still recharging.

A tap on the door drew his attention, and he looked up just as Prowl entered. He held a fresh pitcher of energon in his hands, and frowned a little as he looked at Red Alert.

“Memory feedback,” Skyfire whispered.

Prowl nodded, then quickly crossed the room to the berthside table, trading the full pitcher for the empty one.

“What happened earlier? That alarm thing?” Skyfire asked in a hushed voice.

“Outer wall breach. The _Swarm_ made their way inside, but the situation was dealt with,” Prowl quietly replied. “Do you need anything else?”

Skyfire shook his head. “Just more time to detox.”

Prowl nodded, then silently swept back out of the room, door snapping shut behind him.

Looking back at Red Alert, Skyfire saw he was awake now. The sickly white color of his optics had faded to a light-blue tint. Skyfire knew whatever concoction Starscream had given them had done more than stimulate their arrays, it had dulled their processors, too. Numbed them to what was happening.

Skyfire gently traced his fingers down Red Alert’s cheek. “Hey, there.”

Red Alert looked up at him and then swatted at his hand. “Stop it.” Sitting up quickly, he winced and grabbed his head. “Frag.”

Unsure why Red Alert had scolded him, Skyfire frowned at little. “You might need some extra fuel. Prowl just brought some more.”

Giving Skyfire a dark, almost angry look, Red Alert shook his head. “Just stop already.”

Skyfire pushed to sit up, holding Red Alert’s gaze. “Red…”

“Just _frag off!_ ” Red Alert stumbled as he got off the berth and went to the corner of the room, crouching down, and wrapping his arms over his head. “My head hurts…”

Surprised and at a loss, Skyfire tried to figure out what he’d done to upset Red so much. He carefully poured out some fuel and cautiously approached. “You were having memory feedback, which can be a drain on your reserves. Please, have some fuel, Red.”

“Don’t you dare call me that!” Red Alert snapped, lowering his arms to scowl at Skyfire.

“What have I done to upset you?” Skyfire asked, genuinely confused.

“Stop trying to replace him! You aren’t him! You won’t ever be him!” Red Alert shouted.

“Inferno…?” Skyfire quietly asked.

“Don’t say his name,” Red Alert replied, optics glassy with tears.

“Red, I could never replace him. I know that,” Skyfire replied, as he knelt down on a knee beside Red Alert.

“Then why are you being so nice to me? Why do you act just like him with me?” Red Alert asked, body shivering as he fought back his tears.

“I’m not. This is just who I am. And I do care about you. I want to help you,” Skyfire replied.

“Why? No one else does. Everyone looks at me with nothing but pity in their optics.” Red Alert frowned and looked down at the floor with a grimace. “I see it in their faces. What they think. _Poor Red, he’s lost his bonded. Poor Red, Starscream’s little frag toy._ They just see me as some lost cause, happy to be a drugged up and let Starscream and Megatron do whatever they wanted. But I hated every second of it! I only stayed alive because Inferno made me promise to not give up. It was his last request…” Red Alert started to sob, and buried his face in his hands. “All I want is to be dead. To be with him again…”

“Oh, Red,” Skyfire set the glass down on the floor, and moved closer to put a hand on Red Alert’s back. “I can’t even begin to imagine what losing a bonded would be like.”

“There’s a hole inside my spark,” Red Alert replied, voice filled with static.

“Red…” Skyfire gently pulled him into his arms, and held him as he cried for a long while. The drugs had definitely numbed them, and now that their systems were clearing, the wounds underneath were surfacing.

After several minutes, Red Alert calmed somewhat, pressing close to Skyfire and dimming his optics as he stared off into nowhere.

“Did you want the fuel?” Skyfire quietly asked.

“Sure,” Red Alert replied.

Skyfire handed him the energon, and Red Alert drank half of it down. He then peered up at Skyfire. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Skyfire asked, giving him a small squeeze in his arms.

“You remind me of him _so_ much. You’re gentle and caring and protective. It makes my spark ache even more for Inferno.” Red Alert frowned. “But, as much as it hurts, I do like you a lot. You don’t look at me like everyone else.” He bit his lower lip for a moment and sadly frowned. “So I’m sorry for yelling at you.” He then held up the glass. “Here, have the other half. You need fuel, too.”

Skyfire sadly smiled and accepted the glass. “Thank you.” He took a small sip, then dimmed his optics. “I wish I could ease your pain. If there is anything I can do or you’d rather I stop doing, please tell me, alright?”

“Just keep being you,” Red Alert replied, resting his head against Skyfire’s chest.

There would be no healing for Red Alert’s literally broken spark. Skyfire could only offer him comfort. The strength of will it had taken for Red to live through his loss and remain with Starscream all these months was incredible. No matter what the others thought, Skyfire knew the truth and deeply admired Red Alert’s inner strength.

…

First Aid maneuvered his hover chair in front of the regen tank to check the readings. Sunstreaker’s vitals were stable and upon visual inspection, he could see the puncture wounds and acid scarring already fading from his plating.

He glanced down at his own damaged body, frowning behind his blast mask. Being left offline for so long the way he’d been, it was a wonder he was able to move around at all due to the incredible amount degradation in his joints and internal structure. Only prolonged dips in the regen tank were effective in healing some of the worst parts of his substructure.

He gave Sunstreaker one last look, feeling satisfied he was doing fine, before hovering into a nearby room. He liked to fish through the piles of junk Tremorwave kept around. He reached down and carefully picked his way through some pieces of various-colored plating, pausing at the sight of an Autobot sigil. He pulled the piece of plating into his lap and cursed his stiff fingers as he worked to pry it loose. It finally snapped off with a pop, and he set the plating back on the pile in favor of the trinket in his hands. He rubbed his thumbs over it to clean it up a little, and noticed it was pretty worn. Whoever this had once belonged to must have been an Autobot for a long time.

Placing it in his lap, he hovered the chair to another area to look through some other parts.

“I’m finally back,” Tremorwave said in a loud bellowed voice in the other room. “You in my storage areas again, my friend?”

First Aid turned the chair around and returned to the room with the regen tank, waving hello to Tremorwave.

“I see Mr. Sunshine is already looking a lot better.” Tremorwave grinned. “Oh, and you found another one for the collection, hm?”

Nodding, First Aid fingered the sigil in his lap.

“What’s that, eight you have now?” Tremorwave asked with a light chuckle.

First Aid nodded, smiling behind his mask.

“Well, let’s get you onto the medberth and let me take a look at your vocalizer.” Tremorwave gestured to the main repair room.

Moving the chair, First Aid followed him. Inside the room, Tremorwave helped First Aid up onto the medberth, and turned up the pain dampeners. First Aid examined the sigil closely as Tremorwave gathered his tools and babbled on about his afternoon.

“–That club should be shut down. This poor mech I fixed was a disaster. It didn’t look like he’d been cleaned between clients at all. Few things more disgusting than wiping mech fluid off just to see the injury I needed to repair.” Tremorwave settled in on his stool.

First Aid looked at Tremorwave, his spark heavy as his savior described the horrid conditions he’d performed the repair in.

“Two mechs were fighting over him, and he got stabbed in the process of their brawl,” Tremorwave said, shaking his head. “But I patched him up. He’ll be alright. Well.. relatively. Anyway. Let’s have a look at your vocalizer, hm?”

First Aid rolled his head back, giving better access for Tremorwave to exam the vocalizer buried between neckcables. He felt gentle prodding of tools carefully parting the tightly knit cables.

“Corroded connections. That would do it. The vocalizer itself looks worn, but not damaged. Would explain why when you try to speak only static comes out.” Tremorwave sat back and smiled. “Time to put you under, my friend. When you wake, we can have a proper conversation. You can tell me to stop babbling on so much!” Tremorwave laughed, then tapped the controls on the berth, sending First Aid into a deep recharge within moments.

…

Thundercracker was less than thrilled to be summoned to Starscream’s apartment. He and Skywarp sat on the couch as their former Air Commander paced in front of them.

“Whoever this seeker is that stole my slaves will pay dearly for his actions. Decepticon or not, I’ll peel the plating off his wings, piece by piece until he screams so much his vocalizer fritzes out!” Starscream stopped and looked at them. “I’m supposed to meet with Megatron later. I _was_ supposed to take my slaves with me, but now I can’t!”

“The enforcers’ll find ‘em,” Skywarp replied.

Starscream leaned down so his face was mere micrometers from Skywarp’s. “If my slaves aren’t returned by this evening, _you two_ will come with me to see Megatron.”

Thundercracker had avoided that particular part of his duties since they took over Cybertron.

“We gotta?” Skywarp whined. “I was gonna stop by the club for a little action.”

Starscream straightened his posture and grew eerily quiet as his gaze sharpened on Skywarp.

“Just get Swindle to lend you a slave. He’s done that before. All you gotta say is that it’s for Megatron. Like that big red one we had that time,” Skywarp suggested, trying to worm out of having to go. "I already booked my favorite one..." He murmured mostly to himself.

“We’ve been an official trine for eons now, and yet you’d prefer some dirty, used up husk of a slave at Divebomb’s club over _me_?” Starscream asked.

There was only one correct answer, and Thundercracker prayed Skywarp wasn’t stupid enough to be honest. “Of course not, but you’ve had your slaves lately…”

“And you,” Starscream said, glancing at Thundercracker. “You feel neglected as well?”

Neglected? More like relieved… “We’ve all been busy adjusting to post-war life,” Thundercracker carefully replied.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have put off a bonding between us,” Starscream quietly replied. “I feel you’ve both pulled away from me, which is unseemly seeing as we _are_ elite fliers from Vos.”

That notion sent a chill through Thundercracker. Bonding to these two went against his noble standing, but moreover, he despised them both. Locked in a bond sounded like a recipe for future suicide just to escape them.

Thundercracker knew he needed to distract Starscream from his obsessing, but there was only one way to do that. He sat forward and reached out to trail his fingers down the leading edge of one of Starscream’s wings. “You need to relax and let the enforcers do their jobs.”

Starscream’s optics instantly darkened. “Relax, hm?”

Skywarp smirked. “After a couple good overloads, you’ll feel a _lot_ better.” Primus, Skywarp had all the subtlety of a freight ship.

Starscream smiled a little, pressing his wing into Thundercracker’s hand.

Thundercracker felt guilty for betraying Mirage, but this was a matter of survival. He needed Starscream focused elsewhere to forget about the bonding idea.

Starscream cupped Thundercracker’s face. “My slaves were obedient but uncreative.” He swept his thumb over Thundercracker’s lower lip. “I've missed being with you.”

“What about me?” Skywarp asked, not wanting to be left out.

Glancing at Skywarp with predatory look, Starscream darkly smiled. “Missed being with you _both_.”

Starscream turned and strutted toward his berth room. Knowing the cue all too well, Thundercracker got up and he and Skywarp obediently followed.

Up on the berth, Starscream got on his knees in the middle. “Skywarp at my back, Thundercracker facing my front,” he ordered.

Skywarp practically bounded onto the berth, groping Starscream’s wings eagerly. Thundercracker was more graceful as he joined them, kneeling in front of Starscream and trailing his fingers down the all too familiar frame. Starscream leaned into Skywarp and hummed his approval. Thundercracker mouthed his way down Starscream’s front, flicking his glossa out to trail over sensitive areas as he made his way down.

He tried not to think of Mirage, but it was hard. Normally interfacing with Starscream and Skywarp wasn’t a big deal to him. Just another part of his duty, and truth be told, outside a battlefield this was the only place they worked well together, but he knew in his spark how hurt Mirage would be.

"How I've missed this," Starscream moaned, his panel retracting for Thundercracker.

Like Mirage, Thundercracker was meant to be given away to be bonded for political alliances. With that purpose in mind, he'd been trained in the art of interfacing, too. He parted his lips, slowly gliding them up Starscream's spike then carefully swirled his glossa around the head.

"Frag, I almost forgot how hot TC can be," Skywarp commented as he peered over Starscream's shoulder.

Petting Thundercracker's helm, Starscream groaned his agreement. "He is quite splendid."

Tuning his audience out as best as he could, he slowly let his mouth sink down over the hard spike. His glossa swept around it as it slid in deep enough to tap the start of his intake. Twisting his head to the side, he slowly pulled back, glossa curling around it as he did.

"Oh _frag_ ," Starscream moaned, hands grasping tightly at Thundercracker's helm.

Starscream was easy to please. Skywarp, too. He continued to slide his mouth over the hard length, putting his training and eons of experience with them to use.

Dark blue hands pulled Thundercracker hard by the head, forcing the throbbing spike partway down his intake as Starscream overloaded with a shriek. Buried so deep, it took little effort on his part to swallow the eruption of fluid. It mostly shot it's way right down. Not something he'd been taught to do, but learned to do when performing this act on his Air Commander.

Starscream sighed and released his tight hold. Thundercracker gracefully swirled his glossa around Starscream's spike as he pulled off.

Skywarp actually whined at the sight, gaze fixated on Thundercracker.

"Your spike is stabbing my aft, Skywarp," Starscream commented, sounding amused.

"I need to frag one of you," Skywarp replied, his fingers tight around Starscream's hips.

"Was there something in particular you wanted to do? Seeing as it's been a while," Thundercracker asked Starscream.

"Both of you inside me at once," Starscream replied with dark ruby-red optics

Skywarp groaned at that. "I gotta..." He pushed Starscream forward by the center of his back and angled his hips, impaling him with his spike. " _Frag_ , so slick and hot already." He then began to thrust hard and fast, jarring Starscream with each roll of his hips.

Starscream grunted at the roughness, but didn't protest. Thundercracker moved in closer, helping Starscream into a more upright position.

"Gonna–" Skywarp threw his head back, moaning as he overloaded.

Starscream glanced over his shoulder and smirked. "You better have more than that I you."

Skywarp grinned, optics unfocused and dazed with lust. "Still hard inside you, aren't I?"

"You certainly are," Starscream crooned. He then turned his attention back to Thundercracker. "Join him."

Panel retracting, Thundercracker massaged his spike to get it harder. Scooting in closer, he grabbed one of Starscream's legs, lifting it upward to get better access. Using his fingers to find his way, he nudged the head of his spike just inside next to Skywarp's. He could feel the sticky heat of overload as he carefully penetrated Starscream along side Skywarp.

The passage was hot, wet and tight, drawing a moan from Thundercracker despite his best efforts not to enjoy this. He imagined this might be close to what Mirage would feel like, being smaller than him. That thought helped harden his spike, which Skywarp obviously felt as he whined 'TC'.

"Stop dawdling," Starscream said, grasping at Thundercracker's shoulders. "Both of you rip me open. Make me overload hard enough to pass out."

Bossy as always.

They started by alternating, each thrusting into Starscream and sliding past one another as they took turns. Thundercracker wished he didn't enjoy this, but it did feel amazing. Though, it was devoid of the intense spark flutter he felt around Mirage. This was pure physical lust, nothing more, and with Mirage it was _so_ much more.

Starscream's fingers dug into Thundercracker's plating and he shrieked his enjoyment. "Harder! More! Please!" He begged, writhing between them.

"Same time?" Skywarp asked.

Thundercracker nodded, and they matched rhythm, spreading Starscream to his limit. He screamed in response, which to any normal  mech would be cause for worry, but Thundercracker recognized the pitch of his screams as pleasure caused by the pain. For as long as he'd known Starscream pain turned him on. He'd been like this before Megatron made him his favorite berth toy and it had only gotten worse after.

Skywarp groaned. "Not gonna last..."

To Thundercracker's shame, neither was he. Having his spike compressed as it slid against the stretched mesh of Starscream's valve and the throbbing length of Skywarp's spike.

Roaring, Skywarp filled Starscream with hot fluid that dribbled down all of them. It took only another couple of thrusts before Starscream cried out at the top of his vocal pitch and Thundercracker was drawn into overloading with him as his spike was squeezed hard by the spasming valve wrapped around it. Starscream sagged between them, spent from his overload, and all three panted hard.

Skywarp slipped out first then flopped on his back on the berth. "Frag that was good."

Thundercracker carefully sat back on his heels with Starscream holding fast to him.

"I need you both here with me," Starscream murmured. "We've been apart far too long."

Worry curled around Thundercracker's spark at that.

Lifting himself off, Starscream tugged Thundercracker to lie down with him and Skywarp.

"Like you want us to move in here?" Skywarp asked, snuggling against Starscream's back.

"Precisely." Starscream pet Thundercracker's chest and cockpit.

"I'm cool with that. TC's got slaves, too. He can give you his," Skywarp suggested.

Worry morphed into cold dread at Skywarp's comment.

Starscream peered at Thundercracker with a hazy, sated expression. "You have more than one? You're full of surprises as always."

 _Fraggit_.

Pressing closer against his side, Starscream relaxed between Thundercracker and Skywarp. "A short recharge, then we go see Megatron. Tonight you'll both stay here and tomorrow grab essentials from your apartments. I want you to both move in here with me."

"What about our apartments? They'll remain vacant?" Thundercracker asked sounding casual and calm despite the panic rising inside him.

"Soundwave could do with more space," Starscream drowsily replied before his optics flickered off.

Thundercracker immediately opened a secured link and spoke silently over the internal comm. ::Soundwave, I have an emergency.::

::Nature of emergency?:: Soundwave quickly responded.

::Starscream's reaction to his loss was more extreme than expected. Please take Mirage, Bluestreak and Bumblebee to Shockwave's compound. They aren't safe,:: Thundercracker replied.

There was a worrisome pause. ::Autobots will be relocated,:: Soundwave eventually replied.

::I need you to make it look like a break in. Smash the locks on my balcony entrance. Overturn items in the apartment, and especially the area they live in,:: Thundercracker said. ::Cast the suspicion on the same red seeker that took Starscream's Autobots.::

::Understood,:: Soundwave replied and the line cut.

As if betraying Mirage by interfacing with his trine wasn't terrible enough, he knew there would be no forgiveness for sending him and the others away. His spark deeply ached at the loss of what might have been for them. It was all so unfair. He did his best to do what he felt was right, only to lose everything he'd gained. His only solace being the knowledge that Mirage and the others would be safe with Shockwave.

....

The next morning Soundwave waited for the lift. His camera loop was in effect to hide his movements and he intended to ride up the one level to Thundercracker's apartment level to retrieve the Autobots. The plan was to keep them in his own apartment until later in the evening when Shockwave could more safely ferry them off under cover of night.

To his dismay the door opened and Megatron stood in the lift. He hesitated, unsure if he should step on or not. What lie could he use for going to the flier levels?

"Are you going to just stand there?" Megatron asked as he raised an optic ridge.

Soundwave stepped on. "My apologies." He pressed the button for the next level.

"Going to see the apartments?" Megatron asked.

Unsure what Megatron was talking about, Soundwave played along. "Affirmative."

"Starscream told me last night. He's having his trine move in with him. I'm a little surprised he already told you," Megatron said, suspicion edging his voice.

"Thundercracker offered his apartment to me," Soundwave replied, quickly seizing the information and twisting it to fit his motives.

"Ah, I see." Megatron's gaze moved over Soundwave's frame. "It's been awhile hasn't it? Since we've had a private meeting?"

"Yes, my lord," Soundwave replied, his plating practically crawling in response to the lustful look in Megatron's optics.

Megatron smiled. "Tonight, come up to my suite and bring that lovely slave of yours. I'd like another chance to enjoy his services before we _reconnect_."

The lift stopped and the doors opened.

"As you desire, my Lord," Soundwave replied before stepping off. He walked down the hall toward Thundercracker's apartment, panic gripping his spark.

He couldn't expose Jazz to Megatron again. It would break him. His mind raced, trying to formulate the best plan for protecting Jazz. He stopped short of his destination, frowning behind his mask. Never in million light years had he expected to fall in love with anyone, let alone the fiery little spy he'd bought to protect. He'd do absolutely anything to keep him safe...

He turned on his heel and returned to the lift, partial plan in mind as he opened a secure channel to Shockwave.  

::Change in plans,:: Soundwave said as he stepped back in the lift.

::It's unlike you to change a set plan,:: Shockwave replied.

::Urgency greater than expected. Arrive as soon as possible,:: Soundwave replied.

There was a pause. ::Soundwave, if I arrive now there will be surveillance footage. At night you have easier access to diverting the cameras. Doing it midday might raise suspicion,:: Shockwave replied.

Soundwave grimaced behind his mask as the lift doors opened and he stepped off. He didn't usually take risks or not fully process a scenario and its implications, but he was desperate to protect Jazz. ::Alternative options are not viable.::

::You will need to come back with me in that case. Leaving you there will eventually lead to exposing us both. If we are going to make our objective known, then let's just lay our credits on the table and be done with it,:: Shockwave replied.

Surprised, Soundwave paused outside his apartment door. :: Negative. I must stay until Thundercracker can be extracted as well.::

::He's unable to slip away?:: Shockwave asked.

::Affirmative.:: Soundwave replied.

There was another long pause. ::Hm, I might have a way around exposing us. Call Tremorwave in for a repair. Use his shuttle. It won't raise suspicion and give you time to work out freeing Thundercracker..::

That was a much better option. ::Suggestion for alternative accepted. Thank you.::

::Of course. Be careful,:: Shockwave replied.

Soundwave opened the door to the apartment and stepped inside.

Jazz was on the couch with Frenzy and Rumble watching an old show on the vid screen with Ravage was on the floor, recharging at their feet.  He gazed at Jazz who glanced at him and grinned. His spark fluttered madly inside his chest, as it did every time he was around Jazz.

"I require all three of you to assist me," Soundwave said after a moment.

"Oh? What's up?" Jazz asked.

"You got a job for us, big guy? Awesome!" Rumble replied.

"There has been an unanticipated consequence for our actions," Soundwave explained carefully. "Thundercracker's Autobots need to be moved to Shockwave's compound. His apartment must look like it's been breached through the balcony entrance."

"We get to smash stuff up?" Frenzy asked, excited.

Soundwave nodded. "False circumstances to be created by Rumble and Frenzy, while Jazz assists moving Autobots to shuttle landing pad on roof."

"Alright! Smash stuff!" The brothers said giving one another high fives.

"I must contact the medic, Tremorwave. We will go up once I have confirmation of his impending arrival," Soundwave replied.

Jazz got up and wandered closer. "They're in danger, so that means TC is, too, right?"

Unable to resist, Soundwave gently cupped Jazz's face and nodded. Why did this mech have to capture his spark? This rearranged plan would protect Jazz. He just hoped he had the strength to give him up when the moment came.

Leaning down, he parted his mask and kissed Jazz sweetly, ignoring the whooping sounds Rumble and Frenzy made.

Peering up at Soundwave, Jazz brightly smiled. "Too bad we're pressed for time, huh?"

"Perhaps later," Soundwave replied before stepping back to open another comm channel to contact Tremorwave. _Please forgive me for deceiving you, Jazz..._

...

"He hasn't been back since yesterday," Mirage said, clearly worried.

"I'm sure it's fine," Bluestreak replied. That was a lie, though. Thundercracker had never been gone overnight before and he was worried, too.

Mirage got up and began to pace around. "Something's happened. I can feel it in my spark..."

Bluestreak and Bumblebee exchanged looks.

"I bet he'll walk through the front door any second," Bumblebee replied, putting as much cheer as he could into his voice.

"And if he doesn't? What will become of us?" Mirage asked as he came to a stop. "Don't you see? If he's not coming back we will be put on the market to be sold off to whatever sick-minded Decepticon has a fistful of credits in his grubby hands."

Bluestreak frowned. "Mirage, it's too soon to think that. Bee is right, he'll probably show up soon."

Miserable look on his face, Mirage shook his head.

The sound of the front door opening and closing drew all their attentions. Mirage took off first, sprinting down the hall toward the foyer. Bluestreak picked up Bumblebee on his back and followed him toward the front. Reaching the entrance, he frowned at the sight of Soundwave and Jazz.

“Where is Thundercracker?” Mirage demanded. “Why are _you_ here?”

“Thundercracker is being detained by Starscream. He’s asked me to move you all to Shockwave’s compound. Gather anything you need and we will proceed to the landing pad on the roof,” Soundwave intoned.

“Detained? What does that mean?” Mirage asked, voice pitching higher with his increased worry.

“I think Screamer’s got him and Warp sorta held hostage in his apartment,” Jazz tried to clarify.

Bluestreak dimmed his optics and looked around. This had been his only home since he’d been sold at that awful auction. He’d known nothing else. The idea of stepping through that door into a world that harmed Mirage, Jazz and Bumblebee sent a small wave of panic through him.

“Blue?” Bumblebee gently pet his fingers against Bluestreak’s chest from where his hands were holding on for his piggyback ride. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Bluestreak replied.

“I only want one book from the library,” Mirage said, now visibly shaking he was so upset.

Jazz moved to put an arm around him. “Let’s go get it, then, hm?”

Mirage nodded, and they wandered off down the adjoining hallway.

Soundwave glanced at Bluestreak and Bumblebee. “Retrieve items as well.”

“Haven’t lived here long enough to have anything,” Bumblebee replied.

Bluestreak momentarily considered grabbing his game console Thundercracker brought him, but decided it was a frivolous kind of thing to be bringing along. “Can’t think of anything I want to take.”

Mirage and Jazz returned.

Holding a datafile to his chest like it was the most valuable thing in the universe, Mirage cast a long look around. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“So, if you’re taking us, how exactly is this going to be an escape? Won’t someone figure it out? How we left and why?” Bumblebee asked.

“Once you guys are outta here, Soundwave’s cassettes are gonna trash the place a little. Make it look like someone broke in and took you guys. Since Starscream’s Autobots were taken, it should look like a vigilante or somethin’,” Jazz explained.

“The red paint...” Mirage looked at Soundwave. “There is a can of red paint in Thundercracker’s room. You’ll need to dispose of it.”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave replied. “Shuttle is here. Please come with me.”

“Into the hall?” Bluestreak asked as he watched Soundwave turn toward the door.

“Feedback loop will hide our movements within building. You are safe,” Soundwave replied.

“We won’t run into someone out there?” Bluestreak asked, tensing.

“Starscream, Thundercracker and Skywarp have not and will not be leaving the apartment. I have confirmation from Thundercracker,” Soundwave replied.

“We don’t got much time, so let’s go,” Jazz said, jerking his head toward the door.

“It’ll be okay, Blue,” Bumblebee said softly into his audio. “You aren’t alone. You’ve got all of us.”

The door opened, and Soundwave led the small group down the hall to the lift. They all crammed inside, and were completely silent for the ride up to the roof. When the lift doors parted they could see a shuttle sitting on the landing pad. Soundwave ushered them toward it and then pulled out a small black device.

The shuttle door opened and Tremorwave frowned at Soundwave. “You’ve got a lotta nerve asking me to do this!”

“Repayment for earlier favor when I assisted Deadlock and his Autobot to escape the planet at your request,” Soundwave replied.

Tremorwave huffed and shook his head. “Fine, whatever.”

Soundwave then looked at Mirage. “Collar deactivation will be performed here. Step closer.”

“You can deactivate them?” Mirage said, baring his neck as Soundwave pushed the device against it and pressed the button.

“Affirmative.” Soundwave then gestured for Bluestreak to step up. He frowned, but did as he was asked, and both his and Bumblebee’s collars were also deactivated.

“Get your afts onboard,” Tremorwave snapped from the shuttle.

Mirage got inside, but Bluestreak needed a hand with Bumblebee. Jazz moved in to help them, taking Bumblebee off his back so he could get inside first. Leaning over the edge of the shuttle’s open door, Jazz handed off Bumblebee.

Soundwave moved fast for a large mech, pressing the device to Jazz’s collar and deactivating it.

Jazz whirled around, clearly shocked. “What the frag, Sounders?”

“You are going with them,” Soundwave replied.

“Like frag I am,” Jazz replied. “I’m stayin’ here with you!”

“It is not safe for you,” Soundwave replied.

Jazz shoved Soundwave hard. “Frag you! How dare you send me off!”

Bluestreak settled in on the floor with Bumblebee in his lap, watching the scene unfold with the others.

Soundwave pulled Jazz in close, hugging him and petting his back as Jazz weakly pound his fists against his chest. “Megatron requested your presence this evening. I will not let him harm you again,” Soundwave said.

Jazz peered up at him and shook his head. “You’re a fragger. Why didn’t you tell me that _earlier?_ ”

“Time is limited, and you would have resisted.” Soundwave parted his mask, frowning at Jazz. “Please forgive me.”

It was weird to see Soundwave’s face, so Bluestreak found himself staring despite the burning jealousy he felt in his spark. They so clearly loved one another. It hurt to watch. It hurt to know Jazz hadn’t really loved him, not like that.

“You better not abandon me, or else I won’t ever forgive you,” Jazz replied with a petulant frown.

Soundwave smiled just a little. “I will join you as soon as it is safe.” He then leaned down and the two kissed.

Bluestreak quickly averted his gaze, and Bumblebee took hold of his hand, squeezing it between his two smaller ones. He stared at a spot on the shuttle floor, fighting to keep himself together. He could fall apart later when he was alone. He didn’t want anymore of his friends’ pity. They’d already done more than enough comforting. He just needed to find a way to get over it already.

Jazz finally stepped on board and sat down in the cramped area behind Tremorwave’s pilot seat.

“Alright, we’re outta here,” Tremorwave said as the door slid shut and the shuttle lifted off.

“Blue?” Jazz asked.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Mirage warned.

Bluestreak didn’t look up from the spot on the floor, focusing on the feeling of his hand being held by Bumblebee and doing his best to shut out Jazz’s presence.  
Thick silence filled the air as they were carried away from what had been their home toward some place completely unknown.


	16. Strength of Compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl is working to be a different mech than he used to be, and his self reflection ripples outward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting while sleepy, so there are probably typos/mistakes. I will check through later and fix what I find.

It had been an incredible sight, an entire starship hidden beneath the compound. Prowl had proudly explained their progress, and took them on a short tour, ending at the habitation suite area.

They were greeted by Sideswipe, Smokescreen, Ironhide and Ironfist. Everyone was happy to see Bumblebee, despite his state of disrepair. As they all gathered around the minibot asking him about the refinery, Jazz silently slipped away.

He padded down the hallway, opening doors to the various rooms to see their layouts. At the very end of the hall he found an alcove that had one room at the end. Opening the door, he stepped in and surveyed the space. It was medium-sized, but comfortable, and there was a small, private washrack attached. Deciding this would be his room for now, he programed the lock to his energy signature, and then wandered to the berth, flopping down on his back.

Jazz felt more lost than ever. He replayed the events at the shuttle landing pad, trying to wrap his mind around why it hurt so much to be forced to leave. Unwanted sadness welled up inside him. One part of him was grateful that Soundwave wanted to spare him any further trauma, but the rest of him was angry that he’d not been given a choice in the matter. Soundwave just decided what was best and did it, which went right up his tailpipe. He grit his dentia. “If you don’t come back to me, I’ll hunt you down and make you regret it, Sounders.”

He rolled to his side and curled up, despair overcoming him.

A knock drew his attention. He stared blankly at the closed door, waiting for the inevitable. While no one saw him leave, and most wouldn’t miss his presence, he was all too aware his longtime friend would come looking for him.

The door slid open, and sure enough Prowl was there. He was so predictable.

“Jazz?” Prowl tentatively stepped inside. “May I come in?”

“You’re already in,” Jazz pointed out.

Prowl frowned, then fully entered, letting the door shut behind him. He wandered over and sat down on the edge of the berth near Jazz’s head. Reaching out, Prowl gently stroked the side of his helm. “Mirage just told me what happened.”

“How I got tricked by that stupid giant fragger? Yeah,” Jazz replied flatly.

“He made it sound like Soundwave wanted to protect you.” Prowl let his fingers glide up one of his horns. “And things are a bit of a mess between you and Blue.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jazz replied. “I fragged things up really badly. I thought Blue was okay with it after I told him initially, but apparently not.”

“I can sympathize,” Prowl replied.

“You fragged your owner after telling someone else you loved them?” Jazz frowned. “Doubt you’ve made as much of a mess as I did.”

“In trying to bring Sideswipe and Sunstreaker together, Sunny closed down even more and then went running into the Swarm that broke down the compound outer wall almost getting himself killed.” Prowl softly sighed. “Whether he’ll admit or not, it was a failed suicide attempt that I helped propel him toward.”

Jazz glanced up at Prowl. “He’s gonna be okay?”

“Yes. Tremorwave will return him later this afternoon,” Prowl replied.

“We’re a pair, huh?” Jazz dimmed his visor, as Prowl continued to pet his helm.

“One way or another, things will have to be worked out. I will do my best to deal with Sunstreaker, and hopefully not lose him.” Prowl paused his light touches. “And you will need to talk things out with Bluestreak. Not that I think you should go out there right now and do it, but when you’re ready.”

“I know. I never meant to hurt him.” Jazz frowned. “Never meant to have such strong feelings for Sounders, either. It just happened.”

“Love is like that.” Prowl shifted and reached for Jazz’s collar.

Jazz rolled to his back and bared his neck as Prowl fiddled with the collar. “I dunno if I _love_ him.”

“Mirage said he’d never seen you lose your ‘cool’ like that before. Not even when captured behind enemy lines.” Suddenly the pressure of the collar around his neck released as Prowl removed it.

Jazz rubbed his kinked neck cables. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off him. “Sounders just knows how to push my buttons.”

“Uh-huh,” Prowl replied with a small, knowing smile.

“Shut-up, you,” Jazz replied with a playful jab at Prowl’s leg.

“Well, take what time you need right now, but I do hope once you’re feeling a little more settled you’ll consider being my second,” Prowl said with a warm look.

Jazz gazed up at him, amazed not only at how stable Prowl was after what happened to them, but how he was so much more emotionally accessible. He’d been so aloof and distant in the past... “I’d be honored, but I gotta fix the thing with Blue first.”

Prowl nodded, his relaxed demeanor shifting back to a more business-liked posture as he stood up and set the collar on the berthside table. “I need to check in on Skyfire and Red Alert. If you haven’t emerged in a couple hours, I’ll come back with some energon for you.”

Sitting up, Jazz gazed at Prowl. “I’ll be out in a bit. Promise.”

With a sharp nod, Prowl left.

Part of Jazz was jealous. He felt like he was unraveling, while his best friend was more together than ever. He needed to steel his resolve and set things as right as they could be with Bluestreak so he could stop wallowing in his guilt. Frowning, he also decided the next time he saw Soundwave he’d give him a piece of his mind about taking away his choices like that. He deserved more than that, especially from a mech he _loved_.

…

Groaning, Sunstreaker lit his optics. His field of vision was filled with the intently staring face of that medic, Tremorwave.

“I’m not dead,” Sunstreaker commented.

“Definitely not,” Tremorwave replied with a grin.

“Welcome back online!”

Sunstreaker glanced over to see First Aid sitting beside the table he was laid out on. “You’re alive?”

First Aid chuckled a little as he nodded. “Thanks to Tremor, yep.”

“Now that we’ve established everyone here is online and very much alive, let’s get you fueled up. I’m supposed to drop you back at the compound this afternoon,” Tremorwave said as he coiled up wires and hosing.

Sunstreaker frowned as he sat up. “So soon?” he asked.

“Yeah, that Prowl mech asked me earlier and made it sound important we get you back today if possible.” Tremorwave dumped his coiled up cords and hoses into a bin, then clapped his freed hands loudly. “Fuel time! First Aid, show our guest to the kitchenette, if you don’t mind.”

It was then Sunstreaker saw First Aid was in a hoverchair. The younger medic turned his chair and led the way out of the regen tank room. Sunstreaker slid off the table and followed him, still feeling sort of woozy from the regen tank.  

“So, your legs don’t work?” Sunstreaker asked, curious.

“They work, it’s just that they’re weak. Tremor puts me in the regen tank when it’s available and I’ve been getting some functionality back from that, though.” First Aid stretched to pour out three servings of energon from the dispenser. “I can walk with assistance, and maybe after some more time in the tank my substructure will be strong enough to support me again.”

Sunstreaker took the offered glass and sat down heavily in a chair at the table. First Aid maneuvered his chair into place and put both glasses in his grasp down, then pulled one in closer to him.

Taking a sip, Sunstreaker grimaced. “Sweetened energon?”

“Yeah, I like it,” First Aid replied as his lower port on his mask opened to allow him access to the straw he plunked in his fuel.

Swirling the energon in the glass, Sunstreaker frowned a little. He didn’t want to go back to the awkwardness that was living with Sideswipe and Prowl. Without Smokescreen needing him now, there was no point in carrying on anyway. He softly sighed, wishing those stupid insecticon things had actually killed him.

“You look really upset,” First Aid observed. “You hate sweet energon that much?”

Sunstreaker glanced up and smiled just a little. “It’s not that.”

“Is it related to the wounds you came in with?” First Aid asked.

“Yeah, kinda,” Sunstreaker replied.

Tremorwave burst into the kitchenette and sat down with them. “Alright. Took a good hard look at your readings, Mr. Sunshine. Some of the nastier bites injected acid into your body’s fluid lines and it’s going to take time to fully cycle out of you. You feeling a little dizzy?”

“Yeah,” Sunstreaker replied.

“You’re going to need to take it easy for about a week. Stay close to a berth, recharge as much as you can. That’ll speed up your recovery,” Tremorwave took the third glass on the table and sucked down the fuel in a few greedy gulps. “Ahhh. Nothing like good ol’ sweet energon.”

“Sunstreaker doesn’t like sweetened energon,” First Aid pointed out.

“ _What?_ Maybe it’s the poison messing with your taste sensory input,” Tremorwave teased. “Like it or not, you need fuel, so choke it down. We’ve gotta get going here shortly.”

He really didn’t want to go back already, but he was being given no choice. The ceremonial sword came to mind, and Sunstreaker lifted the glass to his lips and drank down more of the distasteful fuel. If things didn’t get better, at least he still had a possible way out.

...

Pulling a datapad from subspace, Prowl knocked on the door to Skyfire and Red Alert’s chosen room. After a long moment the door opened. Skyfire greeted him with a smile.

“Come in,” Skyfire said as he stepped back.

Prowl took a step into the room and glanced over at Red Alert who averted his gaze. This was another issue that would need to be dealt with as well. When Jazz was ready, Prowl planned on having all three sit down and talk. He turned his attention to Skyfire and held out the datapad.

“Ironfist is doing his best with the older engines on this ship, but he would very much appreciate any insight you might have,” Prowl explained as Skyfire took the pad.

“Schematics,” Skyfire hummed as he poked through the files. “I’d be happy to take a look. I used to maintain large ships like this once.”

“Thank you,” Prowl replied. “Do either of you need anything?”

Red Alert glanced at Prowl like he wanted to ask something, but looked away again after a moment.

“You can ask him, Red,” Skyfire said, having caught the exchange of looks.

“Um.” Red Alert wrung his hands in his lap. “I want to help. I was wondering if there’s anything I can do. Well, that you’d let me do.”

Prowl firmly nodded. “Of course.” He then pulled another pad from subspace and walked over to take a seat next to Red Alert as he turned it on. Red Alert tensed, but didn’t move away from him, which was good. “I have been trying to figure out how the Swarm breached the outer wall. This compound is thoroughly protected with a forcefield, so there should have been no conceivable way for them to get in.” He scrolled to the data related to the breach, including video footage. “But I’m very busy. Would you mind looking it over for me?”

Red Alert took the datapad and nodded. “I’ll figure it out for you.”

“Thank you, Red,” Prowl replied. He could see the blue was back in his optics, but there was still a dullness to them. He was himself again, but not himself at the same time. Standing back up, Prowl made his way to the door and paused before leaving. “Since you both seem to be in better health, I’ll let you retrieve your energon from the rec area and work on integrating with the crew.”

Skyfire looked up with bright optics then nodded. “Thank you for everything you’ve been doing for us. We’ll be happy to mingle, but it may be in small doses at first.”

“That’s perfectly acceptable,” Prowl replied with a smile before slipping from the room.

He made his way down the hall to his own room and wandered inside, sighing to himself as his let his posture relax.

“Hard work being in charge, huh?” Sideswipe asked.

Prowl quickly turned to look into the berthroom next to the small living area, doorwings lifting up in surprise. He shook his head and moved to stand in the threshold between the rooms. Sideswipe was on his back sprawled out over the large berth with some sort of novel on a datapad in hand. “I thought you were in the rec area with the others.”

“I was.” Sideswipe shrugged a shoulder. “Everyone wanted to watch that stupid movie with the droids again. Wasn’t in the mood.”

Stepping into the room, Prowl suspected it was more than that. He crawled onto the berth beside the larger mech, stretching against his warm frame and resting his chin on Sideswipe’s shoulder. “And you’re worried about Sunstreaker, perhaps?”

“Maybe a little,” Sideswipe replied. “I mean, why was he up in the compound anyway? And why did he just run right into those things like that?”

Prowl dimmed his optics. “His will to live hasn’t been very strong.”

“You think he was really trying to kill himself again?” Sideswipe asked with a frown.

“It’s unclear, but worrisome at the same time,” Prowl replied.

“He’s such a stubborn slag-head sometimes,” Sideswipe said with a sigh. “And watching the two of you–” He cut himself off and grimaced. “The walls are so high between you. I don’t know if this whole all three of us thing is going to ever really work.”

Prowl pushed up onto his elbows and stared down at Sideswipe. “I have tried to reach out to him, but he’s been unresponsive.”

Sideswipe leveled a look at Prowl. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but from what I’ve seen you’ve barely tried. I get it, you’re hesitant and your mind is in a million places at once, being our new leader and all, but Sunny needs a good whack upside the head sometimes before he starts to get things. There’s a reason I ran off from him. He doesn’t take hints, frag, he doesn’t take anything he doesn’t _want_ to hear very well.”

“I don’t know if being forceful is the right tact,” Prowl replied with a frown.

“You just gotta be more, I dunno, more upfront with him. I mean, how did you convince him to even try this three-way thing in the first place?” Sideswipe asked.

“I went to him and told him the truth as I saw it about our situation. I also asked if he found me attractive,” Prowl replied.

Sideswipe snorted a laugh. “See, be like that. Be straight with him. If it’ll help, I can make myself scarce so you two can talk once he’s back.”

Prowl nodded. “I will try a more direct tactic.”

Sideswipe smiled brightly, and pulled Prowl down by the side of the helm into a lovely kiss. “And of course he’s gonna find you attractive. You’re gorgeous, you know,” he murmured against Prowl’s lips.

Prowl’s spark felt all fluttery and light between the kiss and compliment. “I don’t see myself as you do.”

Sideswipe pulled Prowl overtop of him, capturing his lips in another, deeper kiss. As the kiss broke, Sideswipe grinned at him. “I promise it’s true. Beauty and a processor that can kick everyone else’s aft. You got it all.”

“Now if only I could also ‘get’ Sunstreaker,” Prowl replied.

“You will. Just stop being as guarded and remember he needs a mallet over the head sometimes,” Sideswipe replied.

“I do hope you you mean metaphorically?” Prowl replied with a small smile.

“Metaphorically or if you need a real one, I know Ironfist has one down in the engine room.” Sideswipe chuckled.

Prowl playfully pinched his nose. “I will do my best for you _both_.”  

…

“You really can’t do anything for a week?” Sideswipe asked as he helped Sunstreaker onto the berth.

The woozy feeling hadn’t stopped. In fact, he felt a worse now after the shuttle ride over. Scooting back, he propped himself up against the wall. “Yeah. I feel like slag, too,” Sunstreaker replied.

“Here,” Prowl came at him from the other side of the berth, holding out a glass of energon.

Sunstreaker reached for the offered glass, but nearly fumbled it. Prowl caught it just in time, and frowned. “Let me.” He moved to sit beside Sunstreaker and held the fuel up to his lips, tipping it up for Sunstreaker to drink.

It was humiliating to have Prowl feed him like some invalid. He shoved the glass away with a hand after being forced to drink about half. “That’s enough for now.”

Prowl lowered the glass, and his doorwings drooped as well.

“Well, I’m glad that you’re back.” Sideswipe leaned in, and Sunstreaker let his brother kiss him.

It was one of the few things he allowed himself to indulge in. Sideswipe parted his lips, and the kiss deepened as their glossae twinned between their mouths. A part of him so desperately wanted to toss his brother down and ‘face him strutless, but his his fear that he was now damaged goods thanks to Vortex’s mind-frag combined with Prowl’s presence overrode his flare of desire. Plus, the whole dizzy, feeling ill thing...

The kiss broke, and Sideswipe nuzzled Sunstreaker’s nose, which reminded him of better times. Back when they’d been affectionate with one another.

“‘Kay, I’m gonna go hang out in the rec area for a bit. Catch you two later,” Sideswipe said as he pulled away and got to his feet.

“What? I just got back, I’m a mess and you’re taking off?” Sunstreaker asked, confused by the abruptness of his brother’s actions.

“Yep. You and Prowl need to talk, and if I’m here it’ll just complicate things. I’ll be back in a bit, though. Promise.” Sideswipe pat the top of Sunstreaker’s helm, then strolled out their quarters.

Sunstreaker frowned a little as he looked at Prowl. “Talk, huh?”

Prowl’s gaze dropped down to the energon in his hands. “Yes. Though,” he paused, fingering the glass. “I hadn’t expected him word it quite that way.” He sighed.

“Sides is a jerk like that sometimes,” Sunstreaker replied as he rested his head against the wall.

“He means well,” Prowl replied. Reaching over, he set the glass on the berthside table, then he looked back over at Sunstreaker. “I just felt that we should talk about what happened. Why it was you were off the ship when the Swarm broke the barrier wall down.”

Not feeling his best, Sunstreaker wasn’t in the mood to verbally evade Prowl. So he decided to just tell the truth. “You and Sides needed some alone time, and I thought no big deal, Smokes wanted to hang out anyway. Of course, him and ‘Hide are apparently now linking arrays and whatnot, so I was sitting there being a third wheel thinking about how useless I was and out of place I felt so I got up and left. But it wasn’t like I could come back to the room so soon, so I wandered into the compound.”

Prowl watched him with a keen gaze, searching for something more behind his explanation. “And the Swarm?”

“Heard the alarm and ran over to where it was loudest. Found Shockwave there arming drones and he tossed me a rifle. So I fought,” Sunstreaker replied in a flat tone.

“He said you shot from a distance with himself and the drones then suddenly you ran right into the group of them. Why did you do that?” Prowl asked.

Now Sunstreaker saw what Prowl was trying to get at. He sighed and dimmed his optics as he focused his gaze on his hands in his lap. “I did it to feel alive again. For a moment, I had a purpose again, and with each swing or shot I made I was filling that empty hole inside me.” He then looked back at Prowl. “But that’s not what you’re getting at. You want to know if I was trying to kill myself. I dunno. Maybe. I didn’t think about it too hard, I just did what I thought I should do.”

Sadness touched Prowl’s face as he frowned a little.

Sunstreaker half-frowned. “Not like my being here matters. So you don’t need to pretend like you really care.”

“How can you say that? Of course it matters and of course I care,” Prowl replied, looking hurt.

“The truth is, if I was dead it wouldn’t make a scrap of difference. You’d get to have Sideswipe to yourself and not have to deal with trying to act like you want me around.” Sunstreaker regretted his choice of words the moment they left his mouth.

Prowl looked mortified, as if Sunstreaker had just shot him right through the spark. Without a word he fled the berth room.

Sunstreaker banged his head against the wall. “That definitely belongs in the top ten list of stupid slag I’ve spouted…” he murmured to himself, guilt welling up in his chest. He sighed, then carefully slid off the berth, fighting to walk despite the slight spin of the room around him. He made it to the doorway and he frowned at the sight of Prowl sitting perfectly still on the small couch, except for the light quiver of his doorwings.

“Prowl?” Sunstreaker shuffled a few steps, nearly toppling forward when the room started to really spin like crazy.

Prowl looked up, then hopped to his feet and rushed over to Sunstreaker’s side to help keep him upright. “You shouldn’t be up. Look at you, you can barely stand.”

Sunstreaker grimaced at his uncoordinated effort, then glanced down at Prowl holding him around his middle. It was then he saw the tell-tale signs of tears on Prowl’s face. “Were you...crying? I’m not worth being that upset over, I promise.”

His comment was met with a disgruntled frown. “Back to the berth,” Prowl ordered without room for argument.

They staggered back into the berth room, and Prowl helped Sunstreaker to sit. Just as Prowl was going to pull away Sunstreaker grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to sit down beside him.

Prowl resisted, and shook his head. “You need to rest. I’ll leave you be.”

“No. I need to apologize. It’s not just Sides that can be a jerk.” Sunstreaker refused to let go. “Look, I’m sorry. I know you care. I just–” He frowned. “I don’t get why. I’m not who I was, and I don’t think I’ll ever be that mech again. I’ve got nothing to offer you, not really.”

Prowl stilled and furrowed his brow as he gazed at Sunstreaker. “None of us are who we were.”

“But before all this, even with my spark broken in two from Sides, I was confident, and strong. I didn’t back down from anything or anyone, and I was a mech that deserved respect. Now, I can’t even look at my reflection without wanting to punch that weak aft staring back at me,” Sunstreaker tried to explain. “So it’s no wonder you don’t want me like you do Sides. I wouldn’t want me, either.”

“Is that what you truly think?” Prowl turned to better face Sunstreaker. “Sunny, war or not, enslaved or not, we change with time. That’s how it’s always been. What I’ve learned as a truth for myself is that I will never be who I once was, and that’s okay, because I’m striving to be _who I want to be_. Not who I think others expect me to be. Do you understand?”

Sunstreaker frowned a little, and reached up to gently wipe away some of the stain of tears on Prowl’s cheek. “Yeah. I think so.”

“I’m sorry if you think I don’t want to engage in a relationship with you in the same way I have with Sideswipe. That is my fault. I have been holding back with you.” Prowl pressed his cheek into Sunstreaker’s hand. “That’s not who I want to be with you. I want to be someone you trust and feel safe with.”

“I do trust you,” Sunstreaker replied. “The problem is more that I don’t trust myself.”

“Why is that?” Prowl asked.

“Because–” Sunstreaker lowered his hand looked away. “–of what Vortex forced me to be like. I had to be turned on and ready to perform at his command, and I just don’t trust what I feel anymore.”

“Sunny… I think I get it now.” Prowl wrapped his white hands around Sunstreaker’s black one. “When your brother arrived here he was covered in scars all over his body. His wounds were visible. His glitch is something definable.” Prowl dimmed his optics a little. “I should have seen it. You’re just as wounded, but your wounds are invisible, hidden beneath the surface.”

Frowning, Sunstreaker didn’t know what to say to that. Prowl was right, though. He did feel broken inside, scarred from the things he’d endured. That was a really good way to describe it.

Prowl then did something unexpected; he leaned forward and kissed Sunstreaker’s chestplate in the same place Sideswipe still had his two scars that Prowl kissed each night before they recharged. The kiss made his spark feel all funny and warm, in a good way. “Prowl…”

Sadly smiling, Prowl gazed up at him.

“Fraggit. You’re a glitch, you know that?” Sunstreaker said, pouting more than frowning now.

Canting his head, Prowl’s optics brightened. “I don’t understand–”

“I didn’t want to actually start to fall for you, but _fraggit_ , I _am_ ,” Sunstreaker replied, voice quivering slightly.

Prowl’s confusion melded into a warm smile. “Should I apologize?”

Sunstreaker huffed at Prowl’s gentle tease. “No, of course not.” He then dimmed his optics and deflated a little. “I’d like it if you could recharge with me, though. If you want to, I mean.”

“I would love to,” Prowl replied.

Scooping Prowl into his arms without warning, Sunstreaker pulled the smaller mech over top of him as he laid back in the berth. Prowl looked startled for a moment, but quickly adapted to the change in position. They curled up together, and Sunstreaker softly sighed. He hadn’t wanted to develop real feelings for Prowl, but here he was, spark all a flutter now.

 _Frag you Sides for picking such a great mech_ , he mentally chided his brother as his body’s need for rest began to overwhelm everything else. His last thoughts were not of self-hatred as usual, but a dim hope that maybe things could get better, if he was willing to try.


	17. Emergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes in all their differing situations lead to decisive action.

Megatron left early in the morning, and then returned to settle back into the berth surrounded by his favorite seekers around midday. In no time he quickly slipped back into a light recharge. Where their illustrious leader had been, Thundercracker had no clue. Doing something heinous, no doubt.

Thundercracker stared at the three prone forms beside him in the berth, his mind too fraught with worry to let him fully sink into a true recharge. He’d only managed maybe an hour or so of anything resembling real rest. Were Mirage, Bluestreak and Bumblebee safe? He wanted to comm Soundwave, but Megatron had insisted the trine stay with him in his suite after pounding each of them quite thoroughly the night before as Thundercracker’s very sore valve could attest to. Up here no comm lines worked, being a communications blackout area. Only Megatron’s computer console in the corner of his berth room with a hardline connected this place to the outside world.

All Thundercracker could do was hope.

A light on the console lit, blinking as it softly beeped. Megatron groaned, his grip around Starscream tightening. Starscream made a half-sparked attempt at pushing away, but it quickly faded as he obviously drifted back into recharge. Of the three of them, Starscream had been ‘faced the most amount of times, being Megatron’s favorite. Thundercracker could only begin to imagine the damages his Air Commander’s body was busily working to repair, from finger-sized dents to an inflamed valve lining… Thundercracker simply couldn’t understand the attraction.

The console beeped again.

This time Megatron’s red optics lit up and he scowled at the corner of the room where the offending sound was coming from. Moving a hand down Starscream’s body, he cycled his optics several times before pushing to sit up, and pulling Starscream up with him.

“Megatron… I need to rest,” Starscream whined.

“Fine.” Megatron shoved Starscream away with some force, but Thundercracker was quick to react, catching him in his own arms. Starscream’s frame felt hot against his own. Proof Starscream’s autorepair was working at full tilt. Megatron lumbered over to the monitor and tapped the keys to bring up the message.

From the berth, Thundercracker heard the recording: _“Lord Megatron, there has been a break in on the lower floors. Enforcers currently on site to collect information.”_ Soundwave’s voice cut out.

“Break in, hm?” Megatron returned to the berth’s edge, red optics roaming Starscream who was now nestled against Thundercracker. He then reached out and pinched a lower part of Starscream’s wing. “Wake up, you worthless piece of aft.”

Starscream whined and pressed his face into Thundercracker’s neck.

Skywarp finally stirred, his optics onlining dimly. “We’re gettin’ up?”

“There’s been a break-in in the lower apartments,” Megatron said, sounding annoyed.

Starscream lit his optics at that. “ _My_ apartment?”

“Soundwave didn’t say,” Megatron replied.

Starscream scrambled to his feet, fluffing his wings and plating to smooth his roughed up appearance and put on an air of dignity. Thundercracker and Skywarp also got up, and all four took the lift down a level.

The door to the lift opened to reveal chaos. Enforcers were swarming in and out of Thundercracker’s apartment. True panic gripped his spark, but not for the reasons it would appear to the others. _Are they safe?_ he thought as he pushed his way past his trine and walked right up to Soundwave.

“What happened? Where are my slaves?” Thundercracker asked.

Megatron frowned as he wandered over with Starscream and Skywarp.

“Slaves no longer inside. They are missing,” Soundwave replied. “Along with my own.”

That genuinely surprised Thundercracker, and he let it show. “ _Yours?_ ”

“Affirmative. Trail of destruction starts at balcony entrance and goes down into my apartment,” Soundwave replied.

Something had happened between his comm yesterday and now. But what? Thundercracker was in no position to ask right now, though.

He proceeded into his apartment and began to walk around assessing just how much damage Soundwave’s cassettes had caused. They’d been thorough. Broken items were strewn everywhere. Reaching his berthroom, he frowned at the busted lock for the door and stooped down to pick up a game piece that had rolled away when the small table had been tipped. He fingered it, remembering how pretty Mirage looked overloading in his lap. _Mirage…_ He deeply frowned and squeezed the piece in his hand, hating himself for betraying Mirage’s fragile trust.

He softly sighed, and walked back out toward the front area, slowing when he saw Megatron staring at Soundwave. He knew that look, and it sent a chill down his spinal unit. Soundwave was speaking with an enforcer, telling them about the situation. His story of returning after running errands to find his apartment rummaged through and then following a trail of items into the lift and taking it up to this floor and finding more destruction was credible enough for an enforcer, but it clearly wasn’t fooling Megatron.

::Soundwave, are they alright?:: Thundercracker commed him on the secured channel.

Without breaking his focus on the datapad the enforcer handed him to review with his statement, Soundwave answered. ::They are safe. Your extraction is paramount.::

::I don’t think that will be possible,:: Thundercracker replied. ::And I don’t think Megatron is buying your story, either.::

Soundwave handed the datapad back to the enforcer, then turned to Megatron. “My lord, please excuse me while I go down to the security room to review the camera footage.”

Megatron regarded him for a long, uncomfortable moment. “You do that. Find whomever is responsible.”

Thundercracker fought to keep the wince off his face at Megatron’s tone. This was not good.

Soundwave nodded, then bowed his head before leaving.

Megatron reached down and picked up a broken trinket on the floor, scrutinizing it. Starscream then swept in with Skywarp behind him.

“Holy slag, your place got trashed!” Skywarp said, looking around.

“Well, thankfully my apartment is in tact. But look at this place! And the thief took your slaves! I bet is was the same seeker that stole _mine_ at the parlour,” Starscream said, flicking his wings.

“Or perhaps not,” Megatron said, optics narrowing as he dropped the trinket on the floor. “Why trash the apartment like this if taking the slaves was the objective? No, something about this isn’t right.”

Thundercracker frowned. “Then what could have transpired here?”

Megatron glanced at Thundercracker with a dark look. “My impression is that this is staged. That we have a traitor among us.”

“What?” Thundercracker tried to feign shock.

“Soundwave… I believe he might be working against me,” Megatron replied with a slight growl to his voice.

“Soundwave?” Starscream looked disgusted. “Do you think he took my slaves as well?”

“Perhaps.” Megatron frowned. “I will have him closely monitored.”

Thundercracker quickly threw open the secure comm channel. ::Soundwave, he knows it was you. Get out of the building as soon as possible.::

::You must be extracted,:: Soundwave replied.

::I’ll figure a way out, but you have _no_ time. He’s going to have you monitored. You are not safe. _Your_ cassettes are not safe. Get out of here now. _Go,_ :: Thundercracker insisted.

::We will come back for you,:: Soundwave replied before the line cut out.

Megatron trailed his fingers down the leading edge of Starscream’s wing. “I’m bored of this. Let’s all return upstairs.”

“My autorepair is still busy,” Starscream replied, shooting Megatron a glare.

Megatron then turned his focus on Thundercracker. “Then perhaps I should comfort you instead, hm?”

Suppressing a shudder of revulsion, Thundercracker bowed his head and dropped his gaze in a gesture of submission. “Yes, my lord.”

A large hand reached over and skimmed down his wing slowly. “I do enjoy your talented mouth,” Megatron crooned. His hand then moved between Thundercracker’s legs from behind, cupping his closed cover.

“There’s a reason I wanted a Vosian noble for my trine. His years of training are quite enjoyable,” Starscream said with an equally dark smile.

Megatron swiftly swatted Thundercracker’s aft and grinned. “Let’s go back up to my suite.”

Thundercracker felt what little dignity he’d regained in freedom from his trine and Megatron slip away completely. His home was destroyed, Mirage out of reach, and his only value in these mech’s optics was his talent in the berth. Reduced to nothing again, he felt himself slipping back into a numbed state as he was led from his apartment.

…

Prowl hadn’t intended to drift off, but curled up against Sunstreaker’s warm frame he’d relaxed enough to do so. He woke when he heard Sideswipe return.

Sideswipe crawled onto the berth and kissed Prowl. “Guess things went okay?” he whispered.

Smiling, Prowl nodded.

Settling in, Sideswipe gazed at Sunstreaker with obvious adoration. Prowl was happy things were finally starting to come together more or less for them.

Sunstreaker groaned a little, then lit his optics, scowling at Sideswipe. “Stop staring at me like a goofy moron, Sides.”

“What? I can look all I want,” Sideswipe replied, rolling to his side and propping himself up on one of his elbows. “You’ve always been nice to look at.”

“Shut up,” Sunstreaker replied with no real venom in his tone. In fact, he smiled a little.

Prowl found them so fascinating to watch when they interacted.

“So…” Sideswipe trailed a finger down Sunstreaker’s frame, and Prowl felt a flare of warmth where their plating touched. “I was thinking, we really should make this all official.”

“You mean frag?” Sunstreaker frowned.

Sideswipe’s smile faltered a little. “Not ready for that still? I mean, if not, that’s okay. I just thought maybe, you know...”

Softly sighing, Sunstreaker looked away and let his fingers idly make circles over Prowl’s lower back. Prowl looked at Sideswipe and shook his head. Looking confused, Sideswipe scowled back at him.

“I want to,” Sunstreaker said after a moment. He dimmed his optics. “It’s just, I don’t trust myself.”

“Then trust me and Prowl,” Sideswipe replied.

“It’s not that simple,” Sunstreaker replied.

“Why not?” Sideswipe asked, disappointment edging his voice.

Prowl gently touched the corner of Sunstreaker’s chestplate where he’d kissed him for his unseen scars earlier. “What if Sideswipe and myself do everything?”

Both sets of blue optics stared at Prowl with matching unsure looks. Primus, how had he never seen they were brothers before?

“What do you mean?” Sunstreaker prompted.

“You’re afraid of the unknown reaction you may have to interfacing with us. I just thought by removing the pressure of mutual obligation, we might be able to cross the initial hurdle,” Prowl replied.

Sideswipe frowned. “Wait, so…” He looked at Sunstreaker. “You’re holding back because of what happened to you?”

“I’m holding back because of what I _did_. What I _had_ to do. Because when I ‘faced with Smokes I felt _nothing_. I don’t want to feel nothing with you!” Sunstreaker’s grip on Prowl tightened with his confession.

Realization blossomed over Sideswipe’s face, and he leaned in and kissed Sunstreaker’s cheek. “Our sparks still feel everything, don’t they?”

Sunstreaker sadly frowned as he nodded.

“So is it Prowl, then?” Sideswipe carefully asked.

Prowl’s doorwings immediately flattened against his back, guilt rising up in his chest. This was why he’d wanted to step back and let them be together. As much as he knew it would hurt to lose Sideswipe, it would have been better than this. Now he’d have his spark broken by both of them if they decided they only wanted each other. He honestly wasn’t sure he could bounce back from something that emotionally devastating.

Sunstreaker gazed at Prowl. “No. It’s not Prowl. It’s this whole thing. I don’t deserve either of you, let alone both of you.”

Relief washed through Prowl along with a deep sadness. “Sunny…”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sideswipe replied. “After everything we’ve all been through we all deserve one measly corner of happiness with one another. You just need to trust me and Prowl a little right now, and in time it’ll get easier. Closing yourself off won’t help things, only make them worse.”

Gazing up at his brother, Sunstreaker looked humbled. “Okay.”

Sideswipe canted his head slightly. “As in okay you’ll stop being such a glitch thinking you don’t belong here with us?”

Sunstreaker dimmed his optics a little and nodded as he squeezed Prowl in his grasp.

“Good. ‘Cause I love you both.” Sideswipe half-smiled. “This also means no more running into danger and getting yourself almost killed, _clear?_ ”

“Clear,” Sunstreaker quietly replied.

Both Prowl and Sideswipe leaned in kissed each side of Sunstreaker’s face in response. Prowl lingered close, nuzzling him and smiling a little. Step by step, Sunstreaker was finally coming around.

“So you wanna mess around then?” Sideswipe asked.

Sunstreaker actually snorted and laughed. “How about we wait for when I’m not fighting off poison in my systems?”

“That might be a prudent choice,” Prowl replied, pressing a hand to Sunstreaker’s chest. “You’re plating is quite warm from your autorepair.”

“It’s not just my autorepair.” Sunstreaker’s hand wandered lower and to pinch Prowl’s aft.

Optics brightening, Prowl let out an undignified squeak, which resulted in Sideswipe snerking and laughing.

Attempting to maintain some level of dignity, Prowl pursed his lips at them. “All causes for your high core temp aside, you can’t even properly walk around right now. I think resting a bit more before we test the waters of intimacy might be best.”

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Sideswipe said, gazing adoringly at Prowl.

“You have a good taste,” Sunstreaker confirmed.

Prowl shook his head at them. “Is this how it will be then?”

“Pretty much, I think,” Sideswipe replied with a lop-sided grin.

Leaning over, Prowl kissed Sideswipe, then he shifted and kissed Sunstreaker. “Good. This is how it _should_ be.”

…

Soundwave quickly grabbed Jazz’s holo guitar from the locked cabinet, and then called to his cassettes to gather with an internal signal.

Rumble and Frenzy wandered out from their berthroom, followed by Ravage. Laserbeak was already perched on the shelves in the living area. These were the forgotten. The small mechs of a supposedly disposable race that he’d rescued and looked after for millena. He knew Jazz didn’t understand his connection to them, but it was hard to even put into words what they meant.

“The situation has changed. We must leave. Please gather what belongings you wish to take,” Soundwave instructed.

“What?” Frenzy scowled. “Why do we gotta leave?”

“Megatron sees me as a threat,” Soundwave replied.

Serious expressions suddenly played over Rumble and Frenzy’s faces.

“This is about your Autobrat, isn’t it?” Rumble asked.

Soundwave internally sighed, and nodded.

The brothers exchanged looks then each took a step forward. “We don’t need any of this junk. Our home is with you. Always has been, you know that, Big guy,” Frenzy said with a smile.

Ravage got to her feet and stepped forward, followed by Laserbeak flying down and landing on Soundwave’s shoulder.

“So where we going then?” Rumble asked.

“Shockwave’s compound,” Soundwave intoned, his spark swelling with so much affection for all of them.

“Then let’s get goin’!” Frenzy replied.

Soundwave nodded, smiling behind his mask. He opened his chest and they all transformed and stacked into his special subspace. Once it closed, he pressed his fingers to the center of his glassy chestplate and dimmed his optics behind his visor. He was never alone. It was a comfort to him in the face of everything else he’d endured under Megatron. “I will protect you _always_.”

He put the hologuitar under his arm, and took one last look around his home. He was going to miss this place, right now he missed Jazz more than anything. Having only been a few hours, it was clear his attachment ran deeper than even he initially realized.  Just as the cassettes saw Soundwave as their home, he knew his home was with Jazz. He felt guilty knowing he was going to leave Thundercracker behind, but he had no doubt they would find a way to retrieve him.

Soundwave exited his apartment and took the lift to the roof. He stepped off to see Shockwave’s shuttle waiting for him. By leaving with Shockwave, their hidden conspiracy would be exposed, but maybe it was time they came out into the light and face down their oppressor, Megatron, more directly. Soundwave was ready to be freed from Megatron’s tyrannical reign just as much as the Autobots deserved their collected freedom from his post-war policies.

…

Jazz sat flopped on a chair in the corner of the rec room. He watched the others interacting, being so normal with one another. Ironhide was quieter than he’d once been and Mirage was obviously trying hard to keep it together, no doubt worried for Thundercracker, but overall if Jazz didn’t know any better, he’d swear it was the old days again. Back when they were banding together, fighting for freedom.

Despite their ease with one another, Jazz still felt on the outs. He silently got to his feet and slipped back out to return to his chosen room. He had no idea how to fix what he’d broken with Bluestreak. Until he could find a way to mend their relationship he knew he’d remain on the outside.

He walked into his room and sighed as the door closed. He flopped front first on the berth and offlined his optics. What made things worse was how strangely lost he felt without Soundwave. It had been what? A whole day? How sad was it that he missed him this much already?

There was a knock on the door. It wasn’t Prowl’s sharp knock, which meant someone else stood outside. He onlined his optics behind his visor and stared at the closed door. He wasn’t much in the mood to talk to anyone, though. Whoever it was politely knocked again, and he huffed air from his intakes. “Coming.” He got to his feet and opened the door to Mirage with Bumblebee riding his back.

“Bee wanted to see you,” Mirage said with a small smile.

“Can we hang out a bit? You keep wandering off from the rec area,” Bumblebee said, hope in his voice.

“Yeah, sure.” Jazz couldn’t say ‘no’ to an old friend. Especially one that wasn’t even ambulatory at the moment.

Mirage walked in and carefully squatted down so Bumblebee could situate himself on the berth.

“You gonna stay, too, ‘Raj?” Jazz asked. “I mean, if you’re mad at me still–well, you don’t have to.” He rubbed the back of his helm and shrugged.

“I was never mad at you,” Mirage replied as he stood back up. “Disappointed, maybe, but not mad. And I would like to stay.”

Bumblebee grinned and tugged Mirage by the hand to sit.

“Yeah, I fragged up,” Jazz quietly admitted.

“Hiding in here isn’t going to make anything better, Jazz,” Bumblebee said.

Jazz sat down on Bumblebee’s other side. “I know. I wasn’t expectin’ to be shoved in the shuttle earlier. Guess I figured I’d get more time before the slag hit the fan and I don’t know how to be ‘round Blue right now without it bein’ an issue.”

Mirage glanced at Jazz over Bumblebee’s head. “I’ve never seen you act the way you did with Soundwave before. I think that just threw us all for a loop, especially Blue.”

“I don’t think I _have_ ever acted like that before,” Jazz replied with a shrug.

“Do you love him?” Bumblebee asked.

Jazz softly sighed. “I think I might. Mostly I’m worried for him right now, though. What if Megatron figures out that the break in thing was faked? He’s not dumb.”

Bumblebee put one hand on Jazz’s arm, and the other on Mirage’s. “Don’t either of you lose hope. It’s all we have left and more important than anything right now.”

Mirage sadly smiled. “I just want to know Thundercracker is okay, too.”

Jazz shot Mirage a sympathetic look.

There was a sharp knock at the door. Prowl’s knock.

“Open,” Jazz called out.

The door opened, and Prowl looked vaguely surprised to see all three of them. “Jazz, Shockwave just sent me a message to meet with him and bring you with me.”

“Me?” Jazz asked.

Prowl nodded.

“Uh, alright.” Jazz got to his feet. He glanced at Mirage and Bumblebee and smiled a little. “When I get back, we’ll hang out. If you guys want.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bumblebee replied and Mirage smiled a little and nodded his agreement.

Prowl led Jazz through the compound. Reaching a stark corridor, Jazz felt sort of uneasy. He’d never spent much time exploring the compound during his brief visits, but most of the other areas were richly decorated. This area was cold and bland in stark contrast to the areas he’d been in before. At the end of the corridor was a heavy-duty door which parted as soon as they were within about ten paces of it.

Prowl’s even stride broke and he frowned. “Never going to get used to that,” he murmured before leading Jazz inside.

On the other side of the door was a dimly lit, very cozy looking living quarters. Jazz marveled at the intricate and detailed features he could see in the main living area just off from the foyer they were standing in.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Prowl. And thank you for bringing Jazz,” Shockwave said as he appeared from an adjoining hallway. “Have a seat in here, and our other guest will join us in a moment.”

“Other guest?” Prowl asked, doorwings flattening against his back with a slight tremor.

“Yes. Nothing to worry about,” Shockwave replied. “But he wanted it to be a surprise of sorts for Jazz. Please sit.” He gestured to the couch with his laser hand.

Jazz frowned. “A surprise?”

Heavy footfall from the hallway drew all their attentions, and all Jazz’s apprehension fell away at the sight of Soundwave. Without thinking, he bolted toward him, practically throwing himself at the taller mech. Large arms encompassed him, and he happily sank into the tight hug.

“I was so scared I’d never see you again,” Jazz quietly admitted.

Soundwave nuzzled one of his helm horns. “I will always return to you.”

Jazz leaned back and scowled up at Soundwave before jabbing him hard in the middle of the chest with his forefinger. “Don’t you _ever_ hide slag from me again. I’m _not_ one of your cassettes. I expect from this moment on to be treated like an equal. You got that?”

Soundwave nodded.

“Good. ‘Cause as happy as I am to see you I’m still pretty fragging mad ‘bout what you did yesterday, shovin’ me on that shuttle,” Jazz replied.

Gently trailing the backs of his fingers down Jazz’s face, Soundwave nodded. “Will I be forgiven?”

Jazz frowned, then sighed. “Yeah, you’re forgiven, but let me be mad for a bit.”

“That is acceptable,” Soundwave replied.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but aside from reuniting you, we need to have an urgent meeting now to discuss Thundercracker’s extraction,” Shockwave said, cutting in.

“Wait, you’re here, but TC’s not?” Jazz said, giving Soundwave a pointed look.

“I picked up Soundwave late yesterday when circumstances took a bad turn,” Shockwave replied. “Megatron grew suspicious after the staged break-ins and one of Thundercracker’s last communications warned him to leave as soon as possible.”

“ _Wait_ , you’ve been here since last night?” Jazz said, pushing to be let go.

Soundwave didn’t loosen his grip, though. “The cassettes are here. I cannot take them near the other Autobots yet. They need time to process the situation.”

Jazz stopped struggling to be freed from the firm hold he was in. “They don’t know anything about what you’ve been doin’?”

“They did not before our arrival. For the safety of all, I remained here with them last night after fully informing them,” Soundwave replied.

“And how are they takin’ it?” Jazz asked.

“They are accepting the situation. But for now, it is best they remain in this area,” Soundwave replied.

Jazz was unable to hide the disappointment on his face. If the cassettes stayed here, then Soundwave would, too. That meant there’d be no taking Soundwave back to his room on the ship and ‘facing until they couldn’t move anymore. Embarrassingly, his entire being ached for Soundwave. He wanted to feel that connection to him between his legs, the heat and weight of his larger frame overtop of him–

“Let’s sit. We have much to discuss,” Shockwave said after a long, awkward silence.

Soundwave finally let go of Jazz and they all sat down on the couches in the living area.

“As you are aware, Thundercracker is currently still inside the main tower. From what Soundwave observed, and what little Thundercracker was able to say, Megatron has the entire trine staying with him inside his top-level apartment. It’s a communications blackout area, which is why coordinating an extraction with Thundercracker is nearly impossible,” Shockwave explained.

“We can’t leave him there,” Prowl replied. “But... You picked up Soundwave, who Megatron suspects may have betrayed him. Once they trace which shuttle came to retrieve him then _you_ will also be exposed. This _whole_ compound will be exposed.”

“That’s why it’s imperative that we move quickly,” Shockwave replied.

Prowl held up both his hands to halt Shockwave. “Thundercracker’s situation aside, how in the name of Primus will we be able to stand up against Megatron once he's unleashed his full force against us? As it is, the _Swarm_ was able to breach the outer wall. This compound can _not_ withstand a full on assault.”

“The _Swarm_ was only able to breach the wall when I took down the force field in that area,” Shockwave replied.

Prowl’s mouth gaped slightly with his apparent surprise. “Why would you do that?”

“To test the drones Ironfist built me. Sunstreaker’s involvement was unintentional,” Shockwave replied, cowing his head slightly.

Jazz had seen the look that suddenly flooded Prowl’s face enough times to know he was extremely angry.

“Sunstreaker _almost_ died,” Prowl bit out slowly.

Shockwave’s optic dimmed. “I am aware my test was not as thoroughly thought out as it should have been. That said, the forcefield is impenetrable. It’s ancient technology that my salvage teams found, and I was able to install for use here. The issue before us now is getting all the forces we want inside this fortress _before_ Megatron acts.”

Prowl fluffed his doorwings in annoyance. “In that case we not only need to extract Thundercracker, but acquire a capable medic.”

“Frag, Prowl’s right,” Jazz said. “We can’t fight without someone here to help repair mechs.”

“The only medic I even remotely trust is Tremorwave, and I don’t know if he would be willing to join our cause,” Shockwave replied.

“Then I will _make_ him choose our side,” Prowl replied. He then stiffened his posture and laced his fingers in his lap. “I propose a two part mission: One mech sent to infiltrate Megatron’s apartment and get Thundercracker out, while a second team goes to Tremorwave’s compound to convince him to come back with us.”

Shockwave’s optic sharply focused on Prowl. “And who would you send in to get Thundercracker?”

Jazz smirked as Prowl looked over at him. “One of the best spies the Autobots ever trained.”

“Negative. Jazz will not be put in danger,” Soundwave replied.

Jazz poked Soundwave hard in the side. “Hey, I get to decide this stuff for myself.”

Soundwave looked at Jazz with a dimmed visor. “I do not want any harm to come to you.”

“Jazz is the best. He’ll be well equipped for the job, and I can say with confidence, he will return. He always does,” Prowl explained.

“With all due respect, Prowl, you’ve all been inactive since the end of the war.” Shockwave gently placed a hand on Prowl’s knee. “Everyone’s skills may need some honing.”

“Pfft, you don’t know me at all, Shockwave.” Jazz crossed his arms over his chest. “Wanna know why I was such a good spy? It’s ‘cause I spent most of my life gettin’ by as a master thief. My skills are sharp as ever. I promise you that.”

Soundwave gazed at him for a long moment, then glanced at Shockwave. “Plan 23 is also in place. Jazz could initiate the detonation upon departure.”

“Plan 23?” Prowl asked.

Shockwave glanced at Prowl. “Remember when you analyzed the layout of Megatron’s apartment for me?”

“I located all the weak points and easy access areas, yes,” Prowl replied.

“Explosive charges are in place. The entire top apartment is set to be leveled via remote detonation,” Soundwave intoned.

“Frag.” Jazz grinned. “Let’s do it.”

“You still have the plans here?” Prowl asked. “I can help identify the best routes through ventilation shafts for Jazz to get inside undetected.”

Shockwave nodded. “I do. I can drop Jazz off via shuttle on the roof, but I won’t be able to linger. How will he and Thundercracker come back?”

“TC is a flier. He’ll just carry me with him. It’ll be fine,” Jazz replied.

Soundwave took hold of Jazz’s hand. Obviously this was not what Soundwave wanted him to do, but he was confident in his abilities. Besides, he had someone important to return for, which was a first for him.

“Then let’s get down the details of the planning,” Prowl instructed.

Shockwave hopped to his feet to retrieve the maps, which struck Jazz as sort of funny. The power dynamic had certainly shifted between them. Lots of things were changing now, though. Jazz squeezed Soundwave’s hand and smiled at him. These sort of sea changes were scary, but he felt more alive now that he had in so long. It was like he’d woken up from a long stasis and he was raring to go.

They were going to regain their true freedom, or die trying.


	18. One, Two, Three, Four...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events before the storm: Jazz discovers more about himself, Sunstreaker finally finds acceptance, and Thundercracker begins to crack under the strain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After lack of smut, have ALL the smut!

The plan was set. Shockwave would drop Jazz off in the morning on the roof the apartment building. He'd then proceed on with Prowl to Tremorwave's while Jazz infiltrated Megatron's apartment to get Thundercracker out.

Jazz had returned to his quarters after their planning meeting and short visit with Ironfist. Lying on his back on his berth, he held up the little toy Ironfist gave him and squeezed it. An invisibility cloak enveloped him. This was definitely going to make his mission easier. He released his grip and re-materialized.

Sighing, he wished he could have spent the night before going on such a dangerous mission with Soundwave. Nothing relaxed him more than a good 'face, plus he felt out of sorts being all alone again. Soundwave wanted to stay and look after the cassettes, continuing to acclimate them to idea of no longer adhering to their faction, though. Jazz understood it on an intellectual level, but at the same time it felt like a kick to gut to be second to them.

Not wanting to dwell on upsetting thoughts, he rifled through memory files. He found one particularly intense interface he'd had with Soundwave and set it up to re-play. He placed the invisibility cloak device on the berthside table and settled in as he let the memory file run.

Soundwave had been sitting at his desk typing away and reviewing various video feeds from around the city. Jazz was bored and in the mood to play, so he'd gone over and sat down on Soundwave's lap facing him.

As the memory played, Jazz moved his hands down his own frame, pausing to finger a headlight with one hand while the other slipped between his legs.

Soundwave had tried to scold Jazz at the time, but all he had to do was grind his hips against his larger lover to derail him. His mask retracted and they'd kissed deeply as Soundwave's hands roamed over his body.

Jazz whined a little when the memory file got to the part where Soundwave's spike emerged and he'd used both hands to massage it until it leaked slightly from the head.

The soft click of his his own array cover opening in response to the memory echoed in the room, and Jazz sank three fingers into his valve at the same time as the memory played the part where he'd straddled Soundwave's lap and sank down over his massive girth. It hurt but felt good all at once as the mesh of his valve stretched to accommodate Soundwave.

He mirrored with his hands what happened in the memory as best he could, trying to get himself off. Maybe then he'd be able to recharge… The slow charge of overload began to build in his array and he slowed the memory down, replaying sections as he tried to reach a climax.

A loud knock at the door broke the spell.

Startled by the unexpected sound, he jerked and his visor went from dim to overly bright. He stilled, fingers still buried inside his valve as he scowled at the door. "Who the frag could that be?" he hissed angrily.

The mech outside knocked again, just as loud and this time faster.

With an exasperated sigh, he pulled his fingers free and snapped the cover shut. It was never pleasant to stop with a charge lingering in his array but what could he do? He got up and opened the door ready to yell at whoever it was, but his anger dissipated when Soundwave stepped into his room and pulled Jazz into a hug.

"Sounders?" Jazz was confused. "I thought you wanted to stay with your little pains in the aft," he said as he returned the hug and dimmed his visor.

"I settled them in. They are fine without me for the remainder of the night. Seeing you before tomorrow is now the current priority," Soundwave replied.

Jazz smiled, pressing his face into the warmth of Soundwave's chest. "Missed me, huh?"

"Very much," Soundwave replied.

"It's only been two days, but it feels like eons," Jazz murmured.

"I agree," Soundwave intoned, petting Jazz's back, then retracting his mask to kiss a helm horn.

Jazz shivered in response. "I was just tryin' to self service to a hot memory of you and me but now that I've got the real thing..." He mouthed Soundwave's chest. "I want you _so_ bad."

Soundwave smiled down at him. "Which memory?"

"Sitting on you when you were at the computer console," Jazz replied with a seductive growl to his voice. "But what I really want is to be under you. Feel you all around and _inside_ me."

Leaning down, Soundwave flicked his glossa out and swirled it over Jazz's helm horn. "I enjoy when you state what you prefer."

Jazz snorted and laughed. "You like my dirty talk, huh?"

Soundwave smiled and nodded. " _Come here_ ," he commanded as he slid both hands under Jazz's aft.

Knowing what he wanted, Jazz grasped his shoulders and parted his legs as he was hoisted up in Soundwave's grasp. Clinging to his lover, Jazz was carted to the berth and Soundwave bent over. Letting go, Jazz was eased down onto the berth on his back and then scooted to the middle. He parted his legs and reopened his interface cover, immediately sliding his fingers back into his still slick valve.

Soundwave watched intently while crawling onto the end of the berth on all fours.

"This is where I left off," Jazz explained, pumping his fingers in and out. "Trying to pretend I had your huge spike between my legs."

Red visor darkening, Soundwave trailed his fingers down the insides of Jazz's thighs.

Heat flared through Jazz's frame at the touches, and he whimpered. "I'm so addicted to you."

Soundwave added one of his fingers along side Jazz's, stretching him to a similar point of pain and pleasure. He panted, his systems heated and array now on fire with a strong charge.

"First overload–" Soundwave said, canting his head and sliding yet another finger alongside Jazz's. "Will be now. I would like to watch your body contort in bliss."

"Wanna... show, huh?" Jazz asked between little pants of air. He spread his legs wider, and pumped their fingers faster. Keening, he shuddered and involuntarily closed his legs partly, trapping all those fingers buried in his valve. He gasped as an overload crested through his array, valve clenching in spasms while pleasure overtook his senses. It felt really good. Not as good as a spike but with Soundwave watching, his engine was revved enough to give him a very satisfying release.

Body going lax as it faded, Jazz let his legs fall wide open again. "Frag."

Slowly pulling his fingers out along with Soundwave's, Jazz hissed a little. He grasped the large blue hand and moved to sit up. He licked Soundwave's fingertips, seductively swirling his glossa around the slicked fingers.

"You are so beautiful," Soundwave intoned.

“And you’re a sexy slagger,” Jazz replied with a big grin.

Soundwave moved in closer, and kissed him sweetly. “Lay back again,” he said, gently pressing Jazz by a shoulder.

Obeying, Jazz laid back, expecting Soundwave to get right to it. So when his lover began to kiss his way down his frame, he frowned with confusion. Reaching his spike, Soundwave placed little butterfly kisses in a line up the shaft, drawing a small gasp from Jazz.

All their frenzied interfacing had never included Jazz’s spike for anything. He assumed it was related to Soundwave’s trauma at Megatron’s hands, so he never pushed him about it, making the sudden attention completely unexpected.

Wrapping his lips around the head, Soundwave slid down, taking in his entire spike. Jazz moaned and both his hands grasped at the berth. “Sou-Sounders. What cha’ doin’?” he breathed.

Pulling off, Soundwave licked his lips. “Is this not enjoyable?”

“Frag yeah it is. I just. I dunno. Didn’t think you’d be into it,” Jazz replied, stumbling with his words. It wasn’t easy to delicately dance around something that would kill both their libidos in one fail swoop.  

“I am ‘into it’ as you call it,” Soundwave replied.

Jazz’s spike disappeared into his mouth again, and he gave up trying to make sure everything was alright. It felt too good to stop. His spike surged into the heat of Soundwave’s mouth. The way his glossa snaked around to hit all the sensitive nodes along with the little hard sucks he performed as he pulled back before sinking down again were quickly driving Jazz toward another overload.

“Holy frag…” Jazz groaned as he rocked his hips slightly up. “Gonna...if you don’t wanna a mouthful...ah!” He shivered as his spike exploded moments later, sending a stream of fluid down Soundwave’s intake, which was swallowed without any visible protest. It had been a good long while since he’d overloaded this way, and his whole array was left tingling and throbbing.

Sagging against the berth and dimly relighting his optics behind his visor, he was treated to the sight and feeling of Soundwave carefully cleaning his spent spike with his glossa.

“You tryin’ to wear me out?” Jazz asked, cracking a half-smile.

Soundwave lifted his gaze up and smiled in return. “Making up for two days apart.”

Jazz laughed a little at that. “I see. Maybe we should be apart for these kinda reunions more often,” he teased.

Soundwave crawled forward and planted his hands on either side of Jazz’s helm. He then leaned down and initiated a heated kiss. Glossae tangled together between their linked mouths, and Jazz moaned into the kiss, tasting himself.

Breaking the deep kiss, Soundwave pulled back and his visor grew a deep shade of red as the distinctive sound of his panel retracting echoed in the room. Jazz’s valve actually tightened with anticipation from the sound.

The next thing Jazz knew, his valve was slowly being stretched and filled as Soundwave pistoned his hips. Jazz’s fingers dug into Soundwave’s sides as he groaned. It wasn’t an exaggeration when he said he was addicted to this mech. His processor felt like it was swimming with the same sort of wonderful dizziness as being drunk on a really good quality high-grade.

Starting slowly, Soundwave only moved a little to allow Jazz’s body to adjust for him. He kissed a helm horn and then nuzzled it as he rocked gently with his spike buried in Jazz.

Whining, Jazz lifted his knees up to hook over Soundwave’s hips. “Not gonna hurt me,” he breathed. “Go ahead.”

Obeying, Soundwave thrust with more earnest, sending waves of heat and pleasure singing through Jazz’s array. He whimpered and moaned, clinging to Soundwave. It wasn’t just his interface array that was reacting, though. With each thrust, his spark swelled and fluttered. His whole body was at Soundwave’s mercy and he trusted him like he hadn’t trusted anyone before.

Lost in a heady haze of pleasure, Jazz moaned his approval and squeezed his legs around Soundwave. “S’close…”

Soundwave then thrust harder, jarring his body as he almost slid to the hilt. After a few more deep strokes, Jazz came completely undone, crying out as his entire frame shuddered with an intense release of pleasure that came with overloading. Soundwave didn’t pause his pace, thrusting through Jazz’s climax to chase down his own.

Jazz’s body went slack as the sensation passed, legs falling wide as they slid off Soundwave’s hips. He could feel the spike impaling him was throbbing and hard, right on the edge. Jazz half-smiled and pushed his hands up Soundwave’s chest. “Fill me up. Come on. You know you wanna make a mess of me,” he said, clenching his valve in time with Soundwave’s rhythm.

Suddenly Soundwave pushed as deep as he could while roaring as he overloaded, spike pumping into Jazz with an unrelenting hot stream.

“Frag,” Jazz moaned, his valve tightening around the hardness inside him.

Finishing, Soundwave sagged over Jazz. Surrounded by his weight and heat, Jazz dimmed his optics behind his visor. He loved how this felt, too. Trapped under Soundwave’s frame like this, he felt safe and protected.

They stayed linked with Soundwave curled over top of Jazz for a good long while. He was in no hurry to move, wanting this closeness last. While Jazz was confident in his abilities, there was no guarantee he would survive tomorrow, so he wanted the here and now to feel wonderful like this for as long as possible.

Soundwave eventually moved. Shifting his hips, he rolled his larger frame to lie beside Jazz on his back.

Rolling over, Jazz made himself comfortable against Soundwave’s side and contentedly sighed. “Just what I needed.”

Smiling, Soundwave gently swept the backs of his fingers down Jazz’s cheek.

Jazz had been mulling over the idea that this was love between them ever since Prowl mentioned it. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that's exactly what this was. A part of him desperately wanted to say it out loud, but he’d uttered that phrase to Bluestreak with such horrible consequences... He sighed and resigned himself to being a coward when it came to this kind of thing. Toss him in the field with enemies to fight and he had no fear whatsoever. Put him in an emotionally compromising position and he was ready to run away.

“Jazz, I am concerned about tomorrow,” Soundwave admitted, smile fading.

“I know. But I promise I’ll be fine. I’m quick on my feet,” Jazz replied.

Soundwave gently tugged Jazz. Recognizing the unspoken request, Jazz climbed up to lay front-first over top of Soundwave. He folded his arms and rested his chin on the back of his hand.

Soundwave resumed lightly tracing his fingers over Jazz’s face and helm. “I would like to tell you something. But–” he paused, his lips pursing slightly.

“But what?” Jazz prompted, curious what Soundwave could possibly have to say other than ‘don’t go’.

To Jazz’s surprise, Soundwave reached up and pressed his fingertips to his red visor, disengaging it. Jazz lifted his head, staring with bright optics behind his own visor as Soundwave revealed a pair of dazzling gold optics.

“Sounders…”

“I want you to know before tomorrow how much you mean to me. You have restored something in me I believed I had lost forever.” Soundwave set his visor aside and lifted his head up, to kiss Jazz sweetly, before relaxing back again. “I love you very much.”

At a complete loss, Jazz froze. His spark was pulsing wildly in his chest as he stared at all of Soundwave’s face. He was so handsome. “I–ah–” He frowned and bit at his lower lip.

“Reciprocation is not necessary,” Soundwave intoned.

Jazz tapped the release for his own visor and tossed it aside before dipping down and capturing Soundwave’s lips in a searing kiss. As it broke he gazed deeply into dazed golden optics. “I love you so much. I feel drunk around you. That’s how good you make me feel. And I _promise_ I’ll come back to you.”

Soundwave wrapped both large arms around Jazz, hugging him and smiling. “I look forward to your return already.”

Jazz’s spark pulsed so hard he was sure Soundwave could feel it. He felt exposed and vulnerable, yet safe and protected all at once. He sank into the hug, and snuggled close. “Me too,” he quietly murmured. He’d never had someone to live for before. Not like this. It was truly terrifying and also incredibly amazing all at once.

…

Sunstreaker woke to fingers digging into his arm. He glanced over, cycling his optics to get them to focus on a terrified-looking Prowl practically clawing him. “Prowl?” he asked, confused.

Shame flickered over Prowl’s face. “I forgot about the inhibitor.”

Still confused, Sunstreaker frowned as he tried to make sense of Prowl’s apparent panic. “Inhibitor?–Oh frag.” Remembering the purpose of the inhibitor to keep his brother still, he pushed to sit up. A wave of dizziness slammed his processor, causing him to wince. That stupid poison was still running through his body. He did his best to fight off the effects and was about to shove his brother away from Prowl when he saw what Sideswipe was actually doing.

“Please, Sunny,” Prowl whispered with urgency.

“He’s just humping you while he’s in recharge,” Sunstreaker replied. “He _always_ does that.”

Prowl still looked like he was on the verge of full-out panic attack, though. Sunstreaker leaned over and batted at his brother. “Wake up you moron. Stop humping Prowl. It’s upsetting him.”

Sideswipe whined in response, his grasp loosening enough that Prowl was able to scramble away. To Sunstreaker’s surprise, he had a lap full of Praxian a moment later.

Prowl hugged close to Sunstreaker, optics fixated on the bleary-opticked mech he’d just escaped. Sideswipe sighed and slipped back into a light recharge.

“You act like you’ve never woken up with him like that before,” Sunstreaker replied, raising an optic ridge.

“I’ve never recharged in his presence without the inhibitor,” Prowl quietly replied. “Except that very first time. When he gravely injured me.”

“Oh.” He half-smiled as he gazed at Prowl. “He’s got a libido like no one else I’ve ever been with. I woke up with his spike against my aft more times than I can even count. That’s what he’s really like. Not the mech that hurt you.”

Clearly more awake now, Prowl’s expression returned to it’s usual outward calm. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Sunstreaker replied. “He must’ve really hurt you bad before to scare you like that.”

Prowl relaxed in his hold and nodded. “You are both very powerful mechs.”

“That’s a frontliner for you,” Sunstreaker replied as he gently swept his fingertips down the side of Prowl’s face. Leaning into the affectionate touch, Prowl fondly gazed at Sunstreaker. Unable to resist the urge, Sunstreaker leaned in and ghosted his lips against Prowl’s. “Wanna kiss you again,” he breathed.

“Then kiss me,” Prowl replied, optics darkening.

Frag, Prowl really was a gorgeous mech. Sunstreaker did just that, lips meeting in a wonderful soft-mouthed kiss. A whine from Sideswipe drew their attentions after a long moment, and the kiss ended.

They looked over at him staring up at them. “ _That_ was really hot to watch.”

“You’re a glitch,” Sunstreaker replied as he tweaked a helm horn.

“What did I do?” Sideswipe asked, swatting his brother’s hand away.

“Scared Prowl with your recharge humping,” Sunstreaker replied.

Suddenly, Sideswipe’s hand shot up to his neck where the inhibitor should be. “Slaggit, the inhibitor.”

“We fell into a recharge after chatting late last night,” Prowl said with a small shrug. “No harm done.”

“I’m sorry I scared you, though.” Sideswipe sat up and scooted closer, stealing a kiss of his own from Prowl.

Sunstreaker expected to feel jealous as per usual when he was forced to watch them be affectionate, but instead he felt a definite stir in his interface array. He tentatively let his hands move over Prowl’s frame, following the angles and curves of his beautiful Praxian form. When Prowl didn’t protest and the kiss deepened between him and his brother, Sunstreaker rimmed a headlight with his thumb, earning a sharp gasp that abruptly put an end to the long kiss.

Prowl looked at him and dimmed his optics.

“Sorry, too much?” Sunstreaker asked, unsure if he’d crossed a line or not.

“Not at all. I quite liked it.” Prowl kissed the tip of Sunstreaker’s nose. “Tell me, how are you feeling? Is the poison still making you weak?”

“That’s Prowl code for ‘you wanna ‘face’?” Sideswipe asked, shifting in closer to Sunstreaker with lust-filled optics.

Insecurity rippled through Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe nuzzled his helmfin, and Prowl watched him carefully.

“If you’re not up to it, you can say no,” Prowl said in a softened voice.

Sunstreaker dimmed his optics when Sideswipe mouthed the slats of his helmfin. “I want to.” And he did, even if he was still feeling unsure of himself. “But the poison is still making me not feel a hundred percent.”

“Then lay back, and let me and Prowl take care of you,” Sideswipe replied.

Turning his head slightly, Sunstreaker looked into his brother’s optics. He was too weak to resist. “Okay.”

Sideswipe grinned and gently pushed Sunstreaker to lie back against the berth, pinning him there with a lovely, deep kiss. Sunstreaker submitted, happily returning it. At the same time, Prowl slid off him and pushed his hand down the length of Sunstreaker’s body, over his thigh and then between his legs, which he parted as he whined into the kiss. He felt so undeserving of their attention, but he was tired of fighting his desire.

Prowl’s fingers drew little circles over his closed panel as Sideswipe broke the kiss, only to keep mouthing his way down over Sunstreaker’s throat. He shivered and dimmed his optics, enjoying how good it felt to be touched for mutual pleasure instead of entertainment.

He relaxed as a light charge buzzed over his sensory net. When he felt a mouth against his heated interface panel, his optics brightened and he looked down to see Prowl had settled between his legs.

Sideswipe grinned and then nipped at a helmfin. “Open up for him,” he purred into Sunstreaker’s audio.

Doing as his brother directed, the panel snapped open and Prowl didn’t waste a moment, licking up his onlined spike.

“Frag,” Sunstreaker breathed as he watched. Prowl was their _leader_ here. Seeing him wrap his mouth over his spike felt dirty on about hundred different levels, and yet it was possibly the hottest thing he’d ever experienced.

Sideswipe’s panel retracted, and he rubbed his spike against Sunstreaker’s hip as he also focused on Prowl. “Hot as molten slag, isn’t he?”   

“Yeah,” Sunstreaker agreed, spike surging into the heat of Prowl’s mouth.

Prowl smiled around it, then sank down almost to the hilt. Sunstreaker felt the head tap his intake and groaned in response. Prowl suckled and swirled his glossa over Sunstreaker’s spike, moving up and down it at a good pace. Sideswipe mouthed and kissed down Sunstreaker’s jawline as he rocked his hips against him with his ever-hardening spike.

He felt utterly spoiled, reaping all the benefits of their combined efforts. He lifted his hips slightly into Prowl’s amazing mouth, brought up to the brink of overload in practically no time.

“Please swallow,” Sunstreaker whined, his pleasure still edged with bad memories of fluid used to mark him or Smokescreen like pieces of property.

Prowl did just that, mouth wrapping tightly over his spike as he overloaded with a hot, sharp sensation of pleasure taking over his entire frame. Sunstreaker whimpered and shuddered, spike unloading right down the intake it was pressed against. He dimly lit his optics, not even remembering them going off. He was greeted with the sight of Prowl slowly pulling off his spike, swirling his glossa over the head to make sure he got every drop.

“My turn,” Sideswipe said excitedly.

Dazed, Sunstreaker furrowed his brow at his brother. Prowl moved to lie against Sunstreaker’s side and gently placed a kiss to his lips as he felt his brother lift his legs up and part them. Their sweet kiss broke when Sunstreaker gasped at a pair of fingers sinking into his valve.

His brother pumped his fingers in and out for a few moments. “You’re so wet already,” Sideswipe said with definite approval in his tone.

“You two have me at your mercy,” Sunstreaker replied.

Prowl mouthed his other helm fin while his brother positioned himself and slid the head of his spike just past the rim of his valve.

“It’s been too long.” Sideswipe slowly pushed forward, sinking into Sunstreaker and curling overtop of him at the same time. Face-to-face, they shared another kiss.

“ _Way_ too long,” Sunstreaker breathed.

Sideswipe began to thrust, slow and gentle at first. “Lemmie know if I get too carried away?”

“You better ‘face me until I’m incoherent.” Sunstreaker grinned, wrapping his legs around Sideswipe’s hips.

Sideswipe nipped at his lower lip. “Whatever you want…”

Soon the world fell away, and for the first time in eons Sunstreaker had what he’d wanted for so long; his brother burying himself over and over, connecting them into one. The way it should be. The way he’d replayed in his memories countless times. Sideswipe nuzzled at Sunstreaker’s jaw as his thrusts picked up in pace and force. Each time he was filled, he felt his spark flutter and spin faster. He’d missed him so much and he knew he needed him more than he could ever say with words.

Pleasure pulsed between his legs as his valve grasped at his brother’s spike. He rolled his head back and Sideswipe’s mouth wrapped over the place his collar had once been. His fingers dug into red plating and he shivered as another overload claimed him. “Sides!” he cried out, body overwhelmed with intense pleasure, causing him to shudder.

Sideswipe gasped. “Sunny…” He thrust off tempo and desperately for a moment longer before he pushed deep and roared as he also overloaded. Heat flooded Sunstreaker’s valve and he felt a small secondary overload chase it, sending a final shudder through him.

Spent, Sideswipe sagged over top of him, and they both softly panted.

The light touch of white fingers to his helm fin, drew this attention back to the world around him. He’d almost forgotten about Prowl.

Prowl smiled down at them. “You two are very beautiful together.”

Sideswipe looked up at Prowl and grinned. “Oh, I’m not done yet. Come here, you.” He pushed off of Sunstreaker and grabbed Prowl around the middle, rolling to his back. A somewhat startled-looking Prowl was suddenly overtop of his brother. “Your turn now,” he said, wrapping his legs around Prowl’s hips.

Sunstreaker shook his head. His brother was insatiable as ever.

Prowl quickly adjusted, and raised an optic ridge at Sideswipe. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I know,” Sideswipe replied, just as adorable as he ever. Sunstreaker warmly smiled, seeing his brother be his usual self. Almost as if he’d never suffered at Wildrider’s hands...

Prowl traded soft-mouthed kisses with his brother, then his panel opened and Sunstreaker lifted his head, curious to see what Prowl’s spike looked like. He only caught a glimpse before he thrust forward sharply. He did see it was black with a white tip. Very pretty, and very Praxian to be colored like that, not just plain silver like his and his brother’s.

Sideswipe whined and squeezed Prowl tight against his chest.

Pistoning his hips, Prowl turned his brother in a molten heap in no time. Glancing at Sunstreaker, Prowl’s optics darkened. “Would you… my…?” his words were lost to his efforts, but with the flare of his doorwings Sunstreaker understood the request. He rolled to his side and reached up to run his hand over the spanse of the closer doorwing.

Prowl moaned in response.

Staring at him with bright optics, Sunstreaker found himself enthralled with the image of Prowl as a lover. He could see how much his brother adored him, and better understood why.

Sunstreaker sat himself back up, and winced again at the pain that momentarily hit him. As it mostly passed, he scooted over to better grope Prowl’s bouncing doorwings. He fingered the hinges, which he knew were extra sensitive from all his experience with Smokescreen. Prowl whimpered in response and thrust harder, his toes digging at the berth for purchase.

“Frag!” Sideswipe cried out. “Whatever you’re doing to him...keep it up,” his brother groaned.

Sunstreaker smiled at that, continuing to pet Prowl’s doorwings.

“I can’t–I’m gonna…” Sideswipe gasped and whined, writhing beneath Prowl as he overloaded.

Prowl slowed, watching Sideswipe as he rode it out. As soon as his brother went slack, Prowl resumed, just as fast and hard.

Sunstreaker got up onto his knees and leaned down flicking his glossa out to slide over one of the hinges as Prowl’s body shifted under it, which earned him a delightful sounding cry in response.

Sideswipe chuckled. “Sunny always knows just what to do.”

Prowl sounded like he was trying reply, but it lacked any coherence as he thrust deep as he could, crying out sharply and finally overloading. Sunstreaker sat back, watching Prowl’s body strain and shiver as he moaned with the obvious pleasure of his release.

“Frag,” Sideswipe groaned.

With a sigh, Prowl draped over Sideswipe in a strutless pile. He dimly lit his optics and glanced at back Sunstreaker. “That was lovely. Thank you.”

Sideswipe hugged Prowl tightly to his chest. “You’re too much, you know that?”

Sunstreaker carefully laid back down. His head was throbbing, but it was worth the pain to see Sideswipe and Prowl looking so happy. He wasn’t quite sure where he fit in with them, but he was feeling less like an outsider and more like he did belong with them both now. It was clear his brother loved Prowl very much, and he could see why as his own spark fluttered at the compliment and warm gaze Prowl gave him.

Prowl pushed to sit up, then reached over and pressed his hand to Sunstreaker’s cheek. “You’re very warm.”

“Autorepair,” Sunstreaker replied with a shrug.

“I’ll get you some energon.” Prowl leaned down and kissed his cheek, then slid off the berth and padded to the front room to fill a glass for him.

Sideswipe rolled over and pressed against Sunstreaker’s side. “You okay?”

“I’m fighting off poison,” Sunstreaker replied.

“No, I mean, okay with me and Prowl?” Sideswipe clarified.

Sunstreaker smiled at his brother. “Yeah. I’m getting there.”

“You know I love you, right?” Sideswipe asked, nuzzling a helmfin.

“I know. And I know you love Prowl, too,” Sunstreaker quietly replied. “And I think this will work, as long as you guys are patient with me.”

“Of course we will be,” Sideswipe assured him with a kiss to his cheek.

Prowl reappeared with a glass of fuel in hand. He sat down on the berth and offered it to Sunstreaker. With some help from Sideswipe, he sat partway up and huffed as the pain in his processor throbbed harder. He took the glass and quickly gulped down the contents, contentedly sighing at the hum of approval from his fuel tank.

The backs of white fingers pressed to his cheek again. “You need to rest more,” Prowl said, concern lacing his voice. “Perhaps interfacing before you were a little more recovered was a bad idea.”

“Totally worth it,” Sunstreaker replied with a grin.

Sideswipe snerked and laughed. “I’m glad you think so. But Prowl is right. Get some recharge. I’ll stay here with you, okay?”

Nodding, Sunstreaker handed the empty glass back to Prowl and settled back. “You leaving?” he asked Prowl as Sideswipe snuggled up against his side.

“Yes, I have a mission to prepare for. But I will be sure to come check in on you both when I return.” Prowl bent down and kissed each of them.

“You better,” Sunstreaker replied.

Prowl smiled at that. “I promise I will.”

…

Exhausted and dented, Thundercracker floated in and out of a light recharge. He and his trine had been holed up in Megatron’s suite with no hope for release. Soundwave’s sudden disappearance had only soured Megatron’s mood, and he’d gotten even more possessive of them.

A hand moved over Thundercracker’s frame slowly. He lit his optics and glanced at Starscream who was the one currently groping him.

“Now that you’ve all rested, how about a little show?” Megatron asked.

Turning his head, Thundercracker saw their leader seated in a large plush chair at the foot of the berth, watching them with dark red optics in the dimly lit room.

“Of course, my lord,” Starscream replied in a seductive tone. Bending down, he captured Thundercracker’s lips in a heated kiss, while his hand continued to roam his frame.

Skywarp rolled over and began to rub his exposed spike against Thundercracker’s hipplate. “I wanna get sucked off this time.”

The kiss broke, and Starscream gazed into Thundercracker’s optics. “No, ‘Warp. He’s all mine this time around.”

There was a rumble of approval from Megatron.

“Aww,” Skywarp whined. “But what about me?”

“Come here,” Megatron replied. Skywarp slid off the berth and Megatron pulled him into his lap. “We’ll watch, hm? And you’ll self-service as they perform for us.”

Skywarp shifted a little, settling into a comfortable position before palming his spike. “Whatever you want, my lord.”

Starscream’s expression darkened as he mouthed Thundercracker’s helm vents.

Thundercracker was so tired. His body needed time to recover from the brutal interfacing he’d been subjected to earlier at Megatron’s hands.

“Get on all fours,” Starscream commanded as he pulled away.

Thundercracker pushed to sit up, then got onto his hands and knees. Starscream swatted his aft hard, then pushed a hand between his legs, groping his flaccid spike, then sinking his fingers into his inflamed valve. Wincing from the pain of his Air Commander’s ministrations inside his valve, Thundercracker fought to stay still.

“Sore, hm?” Starscream withdrew his fingers and Thundercracker internally sighed. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard Starscream riffling through the drawer in the small stand beside the berth. “Where is it? We didn’t use it all up, did we?”

“I believe there’s more in the cabinet,” Megatron replied.

More? More what? Thundercracker frowned as he watched Starscream get up and check the cabinet.

“Ah, there we are.” Starscream returned to the berth with a tube of something in hand. “This will help.” He undid the cap, and pressed the end into Thundercracker’s valve, squeezing some of the contents inside him.

It felt cool and tingly against his aching valve. Starscream then pressed his fingers inside, carefully smearing the lubricant around. It was a much welcome relief, and Thundercracker sighed, while dimming his optics. This might not be as painful as he thought after all–

His thought derailed when he felt one of the rubberized false spikes shoved into his valve. He winced and bit back the urge to whine in pain. The false spike Starscream chose was large, just like Megatron’s spike. Starscream worked it slowly, adding more of the cooling lubricant and continuing. Thundercracker’s faceplates heated with his humiliation. That was the point, though. That was what got Megatron off, seeing his officers treated like playthings. Removing their dignity in his presence to help bolster his own self-importance.

Curling his fingers into the berth, Thundercracker couldn’t hold back from whining in pain. Of course the noise only encouraged Starscream, who then jabbed the false spike in with more force.

Megatron shoved Skywarp off his lap and walked over the cabinet. He returned with a different tube of lubricant. Thundercracker only saw that this one was purple not blue, and he had no idea what the contents were meant to do. “Let me,” Megatron said with a low rumble to his voice.

Starscream removed the false spike and once again something was squeezed into his valve. Unlike the cool-tingling from other kind, this one made the valve mesh ripple and heat. It was actually stimulating his valve, and he shivered when large fingers worked the lubricant into it.

“Better, hm?” Megatron asked, pinching Thundercracker’s chin with the thumb and forefinger of his free hand and forcing him to look up.

Megatron began to finger him, and Thundercracker’s faceplates heated when he felt a rush of pleasure from it. “Yes, my lord.”

A dark smile curled Megatron’s lips and he stepped back, taking a seat again. Skywarp sat down in his lap again without prompting, and Megatron pressed his dirtied fingers to his lips. Without hesitation, Skywarp lapped and licked them clean.

Suddenly, Thundercracker felt a spike poking at the rim of his valve. He looked away from Megatron, and waited for the inevitable.

Starscream sighed as he pulled Thundercracker’s hips back to sheath his spike. “So perfect,” he crooned. “Now, frag yourself on me.”

 _Great._ Thundercracker began to rock on all fours, impaling himself with Starscream’s spike over and over. Starscream’s hands roamed over his back and aft as he moaned his approval.

If Mirage ever found out what he’d done here, Thundercracker was sure he’d be outright rejected. Sadness curled around his spark as he thought of Mirage. He missed him so much, and this was all so unfair. A glimpse of something so wonderful felt cruel now. Tears welled on his optics despite his best efforts to not give into despair.

It was about then that Starscream took over, fingers digging into his hips as he controlled their movement and began to thrust hard and fast. It didn’t feel good, it just felt like he was a hole to have things stuck into. He glanced at Skywarp in Megatron’s lap, pumping his spike in his hand at the same pace as Starscream was ‘facing him. He imagined for a moment Skywarp using Mirage in a similar way to how he was being used now and his spark felt like it was going to break in two at the thought. No one deserved this.

Starscream grabbed him and pulled him back over his spike hard as he cried out at a high pitch, and Thundercracker felt the sickening heat of fluid fill him.

“Skywarp, why don’t you use him, too?” Megatron gently nudged him off his lap and Skywarp happily bounded over, practically shoving Starscream as he positioned himself behind Thundercracker and slid himself in.

“Frag, TC! Your valve is like… I dunno. Perfect!” Skywarp wasted no time, pounding him harder than Starscream had. Luckily his stamina was shorter lived. After only a few moments, Skywarp groaned and overloaded, too.

Thundercracker felt heated liquid trickle down his inner thighs, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehelm against the berth. He heard Megatron get up and tears flowed as he felt a large spike slowly push into him. With his face hidden, he allowed himself to cry a little as he was used yet again.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t ever been in this position with them before. He had on many occasions during the war. What upset him was the fact that he’d falsely believed that he was free of their torment for good. He’d foolishly allowed himself to fall for Mirage and now he unworthy of ever being with him again, having been reminded he was worthless with each thrust. Put back in his place as nothing more than a thing to be used as Megatron’s leisure. Mirage deserved someone who hadn’t betrayed their noble upbringing by being used this way.

Megatron finished with a guttural grunt as he pushed to the hilt, adding to his trinemate’s earlier ‘deposits’. He then slapped Thundercracker’s aft and pulled out.

Thundercracker quickly wiped his face of his tears as he sank down and curled up in a ball on the berth. Skywarp flopped on his back next to him, and Starscream curled up against his back between his wings.

They all watched Megatron snap his interface cover closed as he got off the berth. “All of you recharge. I have some business to tend to.”

“What business? Should I come with?” Starscream asked, peering over Thundercracker’s shoulder.

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” Megatron replied. “I just want to review some of Soundwave’s _work_.”  

Starscream scoffed at that. “That traitor will pay once we catch him.”

“He most _certainly_ will.” Megatron’s tone grew dark and foreboding.

Thundercracker dimmed his optics. If they only knew the half of it… Primus help him, hopefully they never would.


	19. Revisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things move fast and not exactly according to anyone's plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't already obvious, this fic is totally self-indulgent for me, which especially shows at the end of this chapter...

“Do not use until you’re off the roof,” Soundwave intoned as he placed a small round object in Jazz’s hand.

Jazz looked the object over, noting a safety latch which he’d only need to flick aside with his thumb before squeezing the entire device to send the remote signal out. If all went according to plan, it would detonate the explosives hidden all around the top level of the tower and hopefully take out Megatron in the process.

“Time is short,” Shockwave said after a moment. “We need to go.”

Jazz looked up and nodded. “Right.” He wished he had access to his subspace pocket, but in lieu of that he did have several hidden compartments built into his plating. He turned his arm and popped open one such compartment open where he stowed the detonator. Looking back up at Soundwave, Jazz flashed a charming smile. “Better give me a good luck kiss.”

Cupping his face, Soundwave parted his mask and gave him quite a nice, long kiss goodbye. “Be careful,” he said as he pulled away and the mask snapped back shut.

“I promise I’ll return to you. One way or another,” Jazz assured him.

Goodbyes exchanged, Jazz reluctantly made his way toward the shuttle with Shockwave. Prowl was already waiting on board, and as soon as they stepped on the door closed. Jazz gazed out the porthole at Soundwave left on the tarmac, and sadly frowned. _I’ll be back. I always keep my promises._

The flight to the tower apartments was short. As they started to descend, Prowl turned in his seat and looked at Jazz. “We cannot stay, but if something goes wrong, have Thundercracker contact Shockwave.”

“Will do,” Jazz replied as he wrapped the little toy Ironfist gave him over his hand.

The shuttle touched down, and Jazz initiated the invisibility cloak. He shimmered out of view as the door lowered.

“Good luck,” Prowl said as Jazz hopped off.

“See you guys in a bit,” Jazz said confidently before setting off across the roof.

Reaching a large ventilation shaft opening, Jazz removed the covering grate and then sat on the edge peering down inside. It was too dark to see anything and being invisible like this, his headlights wouldn’t work. According to the plans it went down for twenty meters then made a ninety degree turn.

“Now or never,” he murmured to himself. He swung his legs over and let go of the edge, falling down the shaft. He landed with a thud on his feet where the turn began, and winced at the noise he’d made. Stilling, he hoped no one heard him. He listened for any indication of being caught, but all was silent save the hum of the air being circulated through the shaft.

Gathering his courage, he quietly crawled down the shaft taking the path he’d memorized from the building plans toward the main berthroom. A sound he’d heard once before echoed into the shaft and a small rise of anxiety caused him to freeze.

“You belong to me, you worthless, ungrateful glitch!” Megatron’s voice boomed.

“Yes, _yes,_ my lord!” Starscream screeched in reply.

To the right there was a grate, and he could see between the slats into Megatron’s washrack area. He had Starscream pinned front-first to the wall as he pounded him hard with that massive spike of his.

Jazz shook his head, resisting the urge to purge as memories of what he’d done and witnessed here before surged forward in his mind. He could break down or freak out later when he was back in Soundwave’s arms. Right now he needed to fulfil his mission. He shoved hard at the unwanted memories, and after a moment regained control of himself, moving forward again and leaving the scene in the washrack behind.

Two more twists in the shaft and he was peering out another grate into the main berthroom. Thundercracker was lying on the berth on his front, and Skywarp was overtop of him, very obviously spiking him. Jazz frowned, unsure what he should do.

“Frag, you feel so good,” Skywarp nipped at Thundercracker’s neck, picking up his pace. “Missed your... valve… I’m gonna–” Skywarp stiffened, driving deep into Thundercracker as he moaned.

Thundercracker barely had his optics lit. He was staring off at nothing, clearly disengaged from what was happening. He looked so broken and Jazz’s spark ached at the sight.

Skywarp didn’t move off Thundercracker, he just sagged over him and nuzzled the back of his neck. “You wanna spike me?” Skywarp asked.

“Sure,” Thundercracker replied in a flat tone.

Rolling off Thundercracker, Skywarp laid back and parted his legs.

Weakly pushing himself up, Thundercracker winced. “I need fuel first.”

“Okay, I’ll get myself all worked up for ya,” Skywarp replied with a dark smile as he sank a couple fingers into his valve.

Thundercracker slid off the berth and went into the next room.

Scrambling as quietly as possible, Jazz crawled down the shaft to the next grate. Thundercracker was alone, drinking a glass of energon.

“TC!” Jazz said in a hushed voice from the grate.

Stilling, Thundercracker’s optics brightened. He slowly looked around the room.

“Up here! TC, it’s me, Jazz,” he said, disengaging the cloak so his visor would be visible through the slats of the grate.

“Jazz?” Thundercracker whispered as he walked over.

“Here to get you out,” Jazz whispered back.

“Are you insane? You can’t get me out of here. You’re going to get yourself killed. Or worse!” Thundercracker hissed at him.

“I’m probably insane, but that’s aside from the point. I have the detonation device to blow this top level sky high,” Jazz replied.

“TC! Where are you? Don’t leave me hanging,” Skywarp whined from the berthroom.

Thundercracker glanced at the doorway, then back up at the grate. “Blow it up with me in it.”

“Can’t. I got no ride back. You’re my ride, and I promised Sounders I was coming back,” Jazz replied.

Darkly glaring at Jazz, Thundercracker flicked his wings. “Let me pound that aft into stasis, and then we’ll go.”

“‘Kay,” Jazz replied.

Thundercracker downed the rest of his energon and tossed the glass into the sink before returning to the berthroom. Jazz crawled backward until he was able to see into the berthroom again.

Skywarp writhed beneath Thundercracker as he ‘faced him hard and fast. Jazz frowned, realizing he’d meant ‘interface’ not literally pound the fragger. He sighed softly as he waited. He really didn’t want to watch, but he also needed to keep an eye on things.

“Oh frag,” Skywarp groaned, legs lifting as he hooked his ankles together over Thundercracker’s lower back.

Thundercracker grabbed both of Skywarp’s wrists, one in each hand, pinning them to the berth as he thrust hard enough to jar Skywarp beneath him.

“Tee ceeee,” Skywarp whined. “Such a hard spike…”

Jazz dimmed his visor a little, hoping they’d be done soon. Aside from the discomfort of watching, he was worried Megatron and Starscream might finish with one another and return.

“You enjoy it hm?” Thundercracker asked, nipping at Skywarp’s lower lip.

“Frag, yes!” Skywarp cried out.

“Splitting you open with it over and over?” Thundercracker slowed his thrusts, slamming into Skywarp with sharp snaps of his hips.

“Yes, TC!” Skywarp whimpered. “Fill me up! Please!”

“That's what you want?” Thundercracker taunted as he came to a stop.

Skywarp was panting hard, rocking his hips to try and ‘face himself on the spike buried in him. “Yes, that’s what I want. Please!”

“Overload first,” Thundercracker commanded.

Thundercracker didn’t move, letting Skywarp continue to rock under him. Skywarp writhed and gyrated his hips, grinding against Thundercracker until he suddenly arched his chest and strained against the hold his wrists were in as he cried out.

Once his body stopped shuddering, Thundercracker resumed, thrusting hard and fast again until he roared and overloaded, too. Skywarp shuddered yet again, whimpering.

“So good,” Skywarp crooned as his entire frame went slack.

Thundercracker un-mounted, letting go of Skywarp’s wrists. He sat back on his heels and grabbed a wayward cloth on the berth, quickly wiping himself clean.

Jazz then noticed Skywarp’s optics flicker off. Thundercracker had literally ‘faced Skywarp hard enough he’d offlined into a light recharge. When Thundercracker got off the berth, he walked into the next room with the energon dispenser. Jazz crawled forward and reached the grate right as Thundercracker lifted it off.

“Thanks,” Jazz said as he dropped down into the room.

Up close, Jazz could smell burnt ozone from overloading, and see Thundercracker’s usually pristine plating was covered in dents.

“Thank me when we actually get out of here. The elevator to the roof is clear across the apartment. And we have to walk past the washrack to get there,” Thundercracker said in a hushed voice.

“Good thing I have this then,” Jazz replied as he initiated the invisibility cloak.

Thundercracker’s optics brightened. “Okay, that helps…” He then frowned. “I still need to get past without being noticed.”

“Tell ‘em you wanna stretch your wings?” Jazz offered.

“For the record, I think this is a terrible plan. You all should have left me here and blown it up anyway,” Thundercracker said with a flick of his wings.

“Like they’d do that to you. Besides, Mirage is a shadow of himself without you. Now get your head in the game and let’s get outta here,” Jazz said.

He’d hoped mentioning Mirage would be a motivator, but Thundercracker looked miserable instead. “I’m only doing this because you’ve left me no choice.” With that, he strode out.

Jazz followed, unseen. They walked through the berthroom, and neared the washrack with it’s open doorway. Starscream’s audio piercing cries echoed loudly as Thundercracker walked right past, not breaking his stride. Megatron and Starscream were so busy they didn’t even see him. This was going really well. Jazz hoped they’d be able to get out of here without incident. The elevator came into view as they rounded a corridor. They were only feet from the exit when Skywarp suddenly warped in front of Thundercracker.

“Where are you going?” Skywarp asked, almost looking offended Thundercracker left him.

“I just–” Thundercracker frowned. “I _need_ to fly. We’ve been cooped up in here for days now. I need an hour or so of air time.”

“Oh, that’s all? I thought you were sick of me.” Skywarp flexed his wings. “I’ll go with you then. I could use a nice wing stretch myself,” he replied, smiling brightly.

Jazz grimaced. This was not going to work with the mission plan. He quickly looked around the area near the elevator for something he could use as a weapon, but there wasn’t anything.

“Then let’s go for a nice long flight,” Thundercracker replied, gesturing to the elevator.

Skywarp bounded over and pressed the button. The doors opened and they all entered. Jazz stayed plastered against the wall, trying to think of a way out of this. He had no weapon on him, though, and Skywarp was almost twice his size.

“You know, this trine was once a point of pride for me,” Thundercracker said.

“Once? It’s not now? Look at us. We’re the top fliers. Megatron chooses us over everyone else to trust and be with him. I’d say we’ve got a pretty sweet deal, all things considered,” Skywarp replied.

“You would think that,” Thundercracker replied.

 _Frag, no. Don’t_ … Jazz had a sinking feeling Thundercracker was going to do something stupid out of anger.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were mad at me. What’s the deal, TC?” Skywarp asked.

The elevator stopped and Thundercracker moved swiftly, one hand grabbing with a vice-like grip at the tip of Skywarp’s wing and bending it.

Skywarp yelped in pain and dropped to his knees just as the doors to the elevator opened. “TC! What the frag was that for?” he cried out.

“I should make you suck me off right here, you worthless piece of scrap,” Thundercracker replied, applying more crippling pressure to the sensitive appendage. “Get off _now_.”

Knowing that last order was for him, Jazz got off the elevator.

“What the frag, TC!” Skywarp was shaking from the pain he was in.

“I’m _not_ some berth toy to be used as your discretion. I _was_ an elite member of Vosian society. Someone who would have strengthened the power of my family had I been partnered off as intended. But I rebelled. Joined this trine in hopes of creating a different life for myself. Instead I was subjugated, mistreated, and forced to do things I despised for survival. I thought that maybe I had my life back when the war ended, but no. It was stripped away all over again.” Thundercracker stooped down and put his free hand around Skywarp’s neck squeezing it. “I should rupture your main fuel line to your processor. A slow agonizing death, like the one you doled out to that poor Autobot, Inferno. That was his name, by the way. Not that you care.”

Every moment that passed was another moment they might be discovered, and Jazz finally couldn’t stand by another moment. “Enough, TC! Knock his lights out and let’s get outta here!”

Skywarp looked over, his optics wildly trying to focus. “Who the frag was that?” he choked out.

“Lucky for you, I don’t want to kill anymore unless I have to. And I have a prior commitment.” Thundercracker wrenched the wing tip in his grasp and Skywarp yowled in pain as he crumpled to the floor of the elevator. Thundercracker pressed the down button and stepped out.

“You’re a traitor!” Skywarp gasped as the door closed.

Jazz touched Thundercracker’s arm. “Let’s go!”

“I would carry you if I could see you,” Thundercracker commented.

Disengaging the cloak, he shimmered back into view. Thundercracker wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him firmly against his body. Heat was radiating from Thundercracker’s frame. More than normal. “You’re autorepair is straining,” Jazz commented.

“My body has been used non-stop for days. It’s got a lot of healing to work on,” Thundercracker replied with dim optics as he initiated his heel jets.

Jazz opened his hidden compartment in his arm and took out the detonator. “Let’s clear the roof, then I’ll set it off.”

“So Soundwave really did plant all the explosives?” Thundercracker asked as he lifted them up from the roof.

“Sure did,” Jazz said, flicking the safety off and squeezing the device.

Below them a series of loud booms were followed by fire and debris being ejected in a large scale set of explosions. Thundercracker took off, and Jazz dropped the detonator in favor of clinging to his ride back. The air whipped around them, and Jazz buried his face in Thundercracker’s chest. He liked doing thrilling things, but he was _no_ flier. This kind of airborne experience was a bit much, even for him.

Suddenly their straight trajectory veered sharply. He turned his head to see Skywarp giving chase. “How did he?” his voice was mostly lost to the roar of the wind, but Thundercracker must’ve heard him.

“He can warp,” Thundercracker replied, banking sharply another direction.

“I’m gonna purge,” Jazz winced, his fuel tank unhappily gurgling at the sloshing around.

Thundercracker then came to a stop mid-air.

Skywarp held out both his arm cannons, aiming them in their direction. “You betrayed us!”

“Wait! Please!” Thundercracker turned his body, shielding Jazz as best he could.

“Betrayer!” Skywarp shouted, firing on them.

The next thing Jazz knew they were falling out of the sky. He clung to Thundercracker, and could see droplets of energon and pieces of his plating trailing them as they fell back toward the ground.

“Sounders…” Jazz said, his spark aching that might not be able to keep his promise.

“Emergency message sent,” Thundercracker rasped.

The ground came up fast, and Jazz was suddenly thrown sideways out of Thundercracker’s grasp moments before impact. The change in direction lessened the blow when he finally hit the ground. He cratered through an unstable section of an old road bridge, landing in a pile of debris. He heard Thundercracker come down not too far from where he was with a thunderous crash.

Overhead, Skywarp was circling, looking for them. Luckily they’d crashed in an old section of Iacon where there were several criss-crossing road bridges and buildings that obscured them from his view. Despite all the damages he had, Jazz forced himself to his feet and stumbled over broken pieces of metal and rubble to get to Thundercracker.

He was careful not to let his movement be seen, but Thundercracker had left a fairly large opening over him. As soon as Skywarp located it, they were done for. He found Thundercracker in very bad shape, lying on his back in a pile of debris.

“Hey, TC.” Jazz knelt down next to him. “You still with me?”

Thundercracker’s optics dimly lit. “Sort-of,” he replied, voice filled with static.

“Why didn’t you fire on him?” Jazz asked, looking at Thundercracker’s arm cannons.

“Tired of...k-killing,” Thundercracker replied.

“Well, he’s gonna _kill_ us unless we do something here,” Jazz replied. “If I aim your arm up, can you shoot?”

“Y-yes,” Thundercracker said, weakly lifting one arm.

Jazz scooted over, and hugged the arm to his chest as he peered up at the circling seeker overhead.

“Aim for his w-wing. Only way–” Thundercracker’s voice cut out with a burst of static.

“Right, the wing. Then he won’t warp down here, right?” Jazz pressed his face against Thundercracker’s arm, staring down it as he tried to aim as carefully as possible. They really only had one shot at stopping their pursuer, because once the shot was taken Skywarp could easily warp to them after learning their location. “Fire!”

Thundercracker’s arm cannon charged up and blasted. In the distance Jazz saw the blast miss Skywarp.

“Frag!” Jazz quickly lined up Thundercracker’s arm again. “Fire again!”

Another blast was belted from the arm cannon, this time a plume of smoke curled up from Skywarp. Jazz didn’t take his optics off him, watching until Skywarp fell out of the sky a decent distance away.

Suddenly the arm in his grasp became heavy. “Whoa, TC?” He let go and looked over to see the seeker had offlined. He quickly bent down and pressed his audio to the cockpit, listening for the thrum of a spark. “Spark still pulsing, that’s good.” He sat back up and frowned at Thundercracker. “Look, you can’t die. Mirage’ll never forgive me if you do. So hang in there, ‘kay?”

He sighed and looked around at the decayed and destroyed area they were in. Hopefully that emergency message would reach Shockwave before Skywarp reached them on foot.

…

The shuttle set down, and Prowl followed Shockwave off. After pressing the buzzer, they stood side-by-side waiting.

The slat in the door slid open and a pair of gold optics peered out at them. “Frag off! I don’t want anything to do with your fugitive afts.” The slat slid back shut.

“Apparently my involvement in Soundwave’s extrication has been made known,” Shockwave commented.

Prowl frowned and pounded on the door. “Tremorwave! You think you’re safe here? You’ve been helping us! Now let us in so we can talk!”

The slat opened again. “What part of ‘frag off’ don’t you get?”

Scowling, Prowl stared into Tremorwave’s optics. “You think you’ll somehow skate by?”

“Moreover, if I have to threaten you with revealing the cover-up for Deadlock and his slave’s escape, then I will,” Shockwave added.

Huffing, the slat the closed and the door opened.

They walked inside and Tremorwave stalked off. “I was busy, so whatever you gotta say, start talking!”

Prowl followed the upset medic with Shockwave behind him. They wandered through the various rooms of junk until they reached his main medical treatment room. To Prowl’s surprise, First Aid was there, sorting through some items on a table.

“First Aid?” Prowl said, hoping if he couldn’t convince Tremorwave to come, then perhaps First Aid would.

Glancing up, First Aid’s visor brightened. “Hey, Prowl.”

“I had no idea you were alive,” Prowl replied. “You weren’t at the final battle…”

“I know.” First Aid shrank in on himself a little. “I was done fighting. I tried to hide in the tunnels, and–”

“I found his offlined frame and brought him back to life,” Tremorwave interrupted as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, what do you two want with me?”

“We need a medical staff,” Prowl replied.

Tremorwave frowned. “That’s nice. What’s that got to do with me?”

“We want you to run the medical facility onboard the hidden starship beneath my compound,” Shockwave replied.

“You have a _starship?_ How big is it?” First Aid asked.

“It can carry up to two-hundred passengers comfortably,” Shockwave replied.

“No,” Tremorwave replied.

“I don’t understand your reluctance to help us. To help _yourself._ We are going to overthrow Megatron. Restore freedom to the enslaved. These are things I know you believe in, so why won’t you join us?” Prowl asked.

“Wanna know why?” Tremorwave plopped down at his computer console and brought up a window with a ‘most wanted’ information bulletin. It listed Shockwave and Soundwave as co-conspirators in a plot to overtake the new government. “This has been sent to every mech planetside. Megatron wants your head, and I don’t want anything to do with that. I haven’t survived this long by helping the losing side. Anyway you slice it, a ragtag group of formerly abused Autobots, small army of drones and you two running the show is no match for the might of the Decepticon army.”

“What’s that?” First Aid asked. “That weird red light wasn’t on before, was it?”

“Hm?” Tremorwave clicked on a red lightningbolt icon on his console. A window opened in the middle of the screen that said ‘D-R-I-F-T’ in large glyphs over a password entry prompt. “Holy slag…” His fingers flew over the keyboard and a video began to play.

A mech Prowl didn’t recognize smiled into the camera.

“Hey Tremor. It’s me, I know I look a little different. I sorta almost bit it, and as luck would have it, got my aft saved by these ancient Cybertronians that left at the start of the war. They’re part of something called the Circle of Light.” The mech on screen shrugged a shoulder. “Anyway, me and Percy are doing good.” He turned away from the screen for a moment “Hey, come say hello.”

Perceptor’s face leaned into view. “Greetings, Tremorwave.” He then ducked back off screen.

“Perceptor is alive…” Prowl whispered in awe.

The mech on screen flashed a grin. “Percy’s busy building this weapon thing out of that relic. Oh, yeah, we did find the ship of wayward Autobots that escaped. They landed in this throwback to the golden age place, too. Turns out one of the Autobots can use that matrix thing pretty well. Like it’s tuned to his frame or spark, or I dunno. Percy explained it, but I don’t really get it.” The mech sighed. “Primus, I have so much I want to tell you, but I’ll try to give you the short version. Basically, when we first got here the Cybertronians here wanted nothing to do with fighting. After an incident with a slave trading ship that left someone very important to all of us dead, they changed their minds. Well, their leader did, and now they’re gonna help us make a stand and take back Cybertron. So pack your stuff up, Tremor. We’re coming. We’ve mobilized an army of ancient warriors who are ready to fight. No more Megatron and no more war after this. So get someplace safe and don’t die, or I’ll kick your aft. Got it?” The mech half-smiled. “We’re about two weeks out, so see your sorry aft soon.” The screen then went blank.

“Who was that?” First Aid asked.

“Deadlock.” Tremorwave heaved a sigh and rubbed the back of his helm. “Alright. I’m on your side.” He looked back at Prowl and Shockwave. “I need to get a few things together, then we’ll head over to the compound.”

Prowl raised an optic ridge. “You always choose which ever side looks like it will win?”

“Pretty much. I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Tremorwave replied with a grin.

“We’ll be very happy to have you on our side, Tremorwave,” Shockwave replied. Suddenly his optic brightened, then dimmed. “Something has gone wrong, Prowl. I just had an emergency ping signal from Thundercracker.”

“What happened?” Prowl asked, dread curling in his spark.

“It’s unclear. I have a last known location, but that’s all. He’s not answering my pings.” Shockwave placed a hand on Prowl’s shoulder. “Stay here and go back with Tremorwave to the compound in his shuttle.”

“I should go with you and help search for them,” Prowl replied, worried for his best friend’s safety as well as Thundercracker’s.

“If something should happen to me, they still need a leader, Prowl. And that’s your first priority,” Shockwave replied.

That’s right, he was effectively in charge. “Please bring them _both_ back,” Prowl replied with a frown.

“I will do my best not disappoint you,” Shockwave replied, warmth coloring his tone.  

Shockwave then bowed farewell, and quickly left. Prowl stared at the doorway he’d exited through, concerned for all of them. While an incoming army certainly helped sure up their position for overthrowing Megatron, his main priority was getting his “ragtag” crew in the best shape he could. Being together in one place would give them the most strength, which is why losing either Jazz or Thundercracker would be a huge blow for those back at the compound.

“You okay, Prowl?” First Aid asked.

He nodded. “Let’s get what items you’d like to take and get going,” Prowl replied.

…

Just like it’d been when they were living in Thundercracker’s apartment, Bluestreak, Mirage and Bumblebee chose a room onboard the hidden starship with a large enough berth for all of them. Mirage had generally been a mess since they arrived, but as hour upon hour collected and Jazz hadn’t returned from his mission with Thundercracker, he was soon on the verge of a meltdown. Ironfist located some sedatives in the medbay and Mirage voluntarily let himself be dosed.

Passed out in the middle of the berth, Bluestreak was on one side of Mirage and Bumblebee on the other. They were passing a datapad back and forth, each one writing a few lines of a fantasy story they’d come up with. It passed the time, and was a nice distraction, too.

Bluestreak never really knew Bumblebee before all this. He knew of him, and saw him in passing, but the more time they spent together, the more he became quite attached to his newest friend. He knew part of it was seeking comfort for himself after what happened with Jazz, but it went beyond just that. They shared a lot of similar interests, and Bumblebee always had such great stories to share from happier times. Bluestreak genuinely smiled around him, and often forgot about his hurt when they hung out together.

_Putting on his finest cloak, he left his home to search for the mech that knew in his spark he wanted at his side always._

Bluestreak smiled at Bumblebee’s sentence, and wrote the next line.

_After days of searching, he entered an old tavern on the edge of the energon fields. It was filled with locals who mined the fields and in the corner, he spied his long lost friend._

He passed the datapad back over, and looked at Mirage still recharging, curled up in a tense ball. Even his face was creased with worry despite not even being awake. Waiting was always so hard, and Mirage had been through Pit already. Bluestreak gently pet Mirage’s arm, worried for him.

Bumblebee handed the datapad back. “I wish we could do something more,” he said in a hushed voice.

“Just have to wait and be here for him,” Bluestreak replied, taking the datapad.

_“I didn’t expect you to come looking for me,” Jetwing said as Lightwind walked up._

_“Of course I’d look for you. You mean the world to me,” Lightwind replied. “May I sit?” Jetwing nodded, and Lightwind sat down beside him. “Why did you leave?”_

Taking a moment to consider what to write next, Bluestreak bit at his lower lip.

“Primus, you’re adorable sometimes,” Bumblebee said, grinning at him.

Bluestreak laughed a little at that. “Yeah, _right._ ”

_“I left because you don’t need me anymore,” Jetwing replied. Lightwind looked surprised. “I still need you. You’re my best friend.”_

He handed the datapad back to Bumblebee. With a somewhat mischievous grin, Bumblebee began to type a longer than usual addition.

“Now who’s being cute and nefarious at the same time?” Bluestreak teased.

Bumblebee proudly handed back the datapad once he finished. “Read and find out.”

Raising an optic ridge, Bluestreak took hold of it.

_“The truth is, I left because I wanted to be more than your best friend. I wanted a life with you. And you didn’t seem to want the same thing. I’m in love with you,” Jetwing replied. Dumbstruck, Lightwind gazed at him with a whole new view. “I think, no, I know, I love you, too.” Jetwing felt hopeful for the first time in so long. “Come back with me to my modest home? We can talk more there.”_

“Bee!” Bluestreak chided in a hushed voice. “I didn’t know we were writing a romance.”

“Why not?” Bumblebee asked.

“Well, it’s just,” Bluestreak looked back at the datapad. “These characters are kinda like you and me. Aren’t they?”

Bumblebee smiled brightly. “Yeah, I know.”

Attention snapping back over, Bluestreak stared at Bumblebee. “Wait, are you saying–”

“Yeah, I like you, Blue.” Bumblebee pushed to sit up. “But, I know you might not feel the same, and it’s alright if you don’t.”

Also sitting up, Bluestreak gazed at Bumblebee. “I never thought about it. I was too wrapped up in what happened to me with Jazz, I guess.”

Bumblebee sadly smiled at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make things weird. I was trying to wait to woo you when I looked a little less broken.” He touched one of his cracked helm horns. “Look, I’m a lot older than I seem, and if you’re not interested, that’s really okay. Just, you know, be honest.”

Gazing at Bumblebee, Bluestreak shyly smiled. “It’s funny, the times I forget about what happened are when I’m around you. Life seems almost normal when it's just us. I haven't had anyone in my life I felt this comfortable with in a long time. Not since before Praxus fell anyway.” He nervously fingered the datapad and re-read the passage Bumblebee wrote. He then typed a response.

_Lightwind leaned over the table, and their lips met. Jetwing had dreamed of kissing his best friend, but never dared to think it might really happen. He was so happy, he was sure his spark might burst._

“Here,” Bluestreak said, handing the datapad back.

Bumblebee slowly took it, seeming unsure. He then read the added text and looked at Bluestreak with bright hopeful optics. “Blue? That means–”

Leaning over Mirage, Bluestreak cupped his face with one hand and their mouths met. They shared a lovely soft-mouthed kiss that left Bluestreak's spark pulsing faster. Pulling back, he grinned at the dazed look on Bumblebee’s face.

“Not at all what I thought I’d see when I came to,” Mirage said in a groggy voice.

They both jumped apart, looking at him.

“We were just, um…” Bluestreak looked to Bumblebee for an answer.

“I saw what you two were _just_ doing,” Mirage replied with a small smirk. “Never thought Blue was going to figure it out, though.”

“He didn’t. I kinda let it slip,” Bumblebee replied.

“On purpose?” Mirage prompted.

“Wait, you knew?” Bluestreak asked, looking at Mirage.

“You’re as kind as you are clueless, Blue. Besides, you were still so hung up on Jazz,” Mirage replied. “Speaking of which–” his optics dimmed. “Any word?”

"Nothing yet. Not from Jazz or Prowl," Bluestreak replied.

Mirage curled in on himself and sighed. "How long have I been out?"

"Only a couple hours," Bumblebee replied, gently rubbing Mirage’s back. "Someone should be back soon. I'm sure we'll have news any time now."

The intercom suddenly buzzed to life.

"All those able, please meet me at the cargo level. We have some supplies to load onboard for medbay and I need as many hands as are available," Prowl's voice said.

"Prowl's back." Bluestreak scooted off the berth and without thinking stooped down for Bumblebee to hitch a ride on his back.

"He said he needs help not a hindrance," Bumblebee said, poking Bluestreak's back.

"Don't be like that. Come on," Bluestreak replied.

Mirage pushed himself off the berth and stood, hugging his arms around his middle. "We aren't leaving you here alone and I want answers."

Relenting, Bumblebee moved over and then wrapped his arms around Bluestreak's shoulders. He leaned in close and whispered into his audio. "My handsome companion."

Heat flashed over Bluestreak's faceplates and his doorwings lifted upward as he stood with Bumblebee on his back. "You trying to make my face overheat?"

"That's not the only thing I want to get all heated up," Bumblebee murmured, hugging himself to Bluestreak.

"Bee!" Bluestreak squeezed Bumblebee's legs in his grasp, shyly smiling.

Bumblebee chuckled and nuzzled the back of Bluestreak's helm. “You really are adorable.”

Mirage shook his head at them. “Let's go see what Prowl has to say.”

Bluestreak caught a hint of a smile as Mirage turned and strode toward the door.


	20. Gathering Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the mission, and relationship building on all fronts as they each find strength in one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended this to be the last chapter, but it just kept going and going... So here's what I have. And perhaps the next chapter will be the end?

As the minutes passed, Jazz felt more and more on edge. Every little sound had him jumping to see what caused it. Most of what he heard were dislodged pieces of debris falling, but he knew Skywarp could potentially appear any moment. He wasn’t armed, and he couldn’t abandon Thundercracker here.

Draped partway over the seeker, he frowned. “Why did you take the full hit, TC? Should’ve let me take it. Then we’d have made it home.” But he knew why. Thundercracker wanted to protect anyone he could, even at the cost of his own life if it came to that. “Mirage’ll never forgive me,” he murmured.

The sound of heavy footfall drew his attention. Jazz focused as best he could with his un-modified visor. He prayed to Primus it was Shockwave when he saw a flash of purple, but that hope faded when he saw the outlines of wings.

“Hey, betrayer! Where are you?” Skywarp taunted.

Jazz quickly looked around for anything he might use as a weapon. Getting to his feet, he grabbed a piece of metal and then darted off, taking a long path around to try and come up behind Skywarp. He wasn’t sure if Skywarp’s teleporting still worked or not, so he needed to try and surprise him if possible. Good thing he was smaller and lighter than the seeker, his own footsteps quiet enough to not give himself away as Skywarp lumbered toward Thundercracker’s prone form. Jazz climbed up one of the partial roadways and looked down at Skywarp from behind. This was his only chance.

Leaping off, he swung his piece of metal with all the force he could, landing it dead center against the back of Skywarp’s head. The two fell forward only a short distance from where Thundercracker’s body.

“Why you little piece of scrap!” Skywarp rolled over, fist flying up. He landed a blow against Jazz’s chin hard, sending the world spinning.

Trying to regain his equilibrium, Jazz squeezed the invisibility cloak and crawled as the world spin away from Skywarp.

“Tricky little thing, but you’re weak!” Skywarp obviously saw the displaced debris from Jazz’s crawling and kicked him hard in the side.

This mech was larger, stronger, and armed. Jazz was scrappy and good at thinking on his feet, but he knew he was no match for this winged mech. Especially with his world tilting sideways from that head blow. He disengaged the cloak. Maybe he could talk his way out of this.

“Hey, there!” Jazz held his hands up defensively as he got to his knees.

Skywarp smirked as he aimed his arm cannon and moved in closer. “Worthless Autobot scum. Where’s TC?”

They were near him, but apparently Skywarp hadn’t spotted his body in the debris yet. Jazz wished he had his specialized visor. But he was close enough to see Skywarp’s yellow optics were flickering and one was dimmed. Perhaps the fall damaged his vision. That punch to his head must’ve been a lucky hit. Maybe he could get away with the cloak? He squeezed his invisibility device and scrambled away.

“Hey! Get back here!” Skywarp fired wildly, some of his shots going wide, but a handful sprayed over Jazz’s backside and one hit a major line of mech fluid.

Crying out in pain, Jazz fell forward. “Fraggit,” he muttered as he felt the warm liquid pool dribble down his plating. He was unable to move and now the world was fading fast. “Sorry, Sounders,” he whispered as his grasp on the cloak device went slack and he shimmered back into view.

“Stupid little piece of scrap,” Skywarp said, walking up and pressing his cannon to Jazz’s head. “I’ll put you out of your misery.”

The cannon whirred as it filled with a large charge. Jazz had never felt regret when faced with death before. He’d always been able to face it with a clear processor, but this time all he could think about was how he’d failed to keep his promise to Soundwave.

The cannon started to discharge and Jazz offlined his optics, hoping it would be quick. But instead of death, he heard a different frequency blast and Skywarp yelp as his shot pinged off the ground nearby.

“Step away from the Autobot and I might consider sparing your life,” Shockwave said, armed with a really big fusion cannon pointed at Skywarp.

Twisting his head, Jazz saw the shot Shockwave took had crippled Skywarp’s arm.

“Never! You’ve betrayed Lord Megatron, too! How could you–” Skywarp didn’t get to finish his sentence, another shot throwing him back as it hit his chest square on.

“Better late than never,” Jazz rasped, his lower body no longer responding to him.

Shockwave walked over and knelt down, fingers inspecting the shots in his back. “He hit a major line. I cannot repair this in the field.”

“Yeah, tell Sounders I’m sorry,” Jazz replied, voice filling with static now.

“Don’t give up so easily. I won’t let you die.” Shockwave slung his weapon over his shoulder, and scooped Jazz up into his arms. “Soundwave would never forgive me if I don’t return with you.”

“And TC?” Jazz asked, trying not to be disturbed at the lack of sensation in his legs and his fading vision.

“You are both coming back with me. Prowl made me promise,” Shockwave replied.

Jazz half-smiled. “He can be pretty bossy sometimes.”

“He’s a natural leader,” Shockwave replied with clear amusement in his tone as he carried Jazz to his nearby shuttle.

…

“The controls are simple enough. Touching the sphere activates or deactivates the forcefield.” Ironfist squinted as he examined the ancient tech that was powering the forcefield around the compound. “And Shockwave set this up so a remote signal makes his jerry-rigged piece of metal tap the sphere top to open up for his shuttle to come and go.”

“ _And_ sliding this lever along the bottom portion increases or decreases the size. But What I don’t understand is how it’s doing it. What powers it?” Skyfire asked, shaking his head.

Red Alert silently watched them, two of the smartests mechs on Cybertron completely stumped by the small sphere floating just above a pedestal in the hangar next to the ship. It was almost comical to watch how perplexed they were by such a small thing.

Looking up at the ship, Red Alert saw some of his comrades on the roof, and others still milling around the open cargo hold door. They were all working hard to get the ship in tiptop shape. A part of him felt guilty he was so useless to them. He wished he could be like the rest of them, but he knew that wasn’t possible. He was far too fragmented to ever be whole enough to resemble ‘normal’ again. He only felt somewhat stable in Skyfire presence, and found it easiest to follow him around.

“Well, the ultimate question is: can we copy and adapt this ancient tech for the ship?” Ironfist said as he rubbed his faceplate.

“Without being able to understand how it works, I have no idea how we could do that,” Skyfire replied. “I suppose when the time comes, we’ll just have to load it on the ship. I really don’t know how else to make good use of it.”

Red Alert stared at the pedestal and sphere and frowned as he spotted a seam line in the base. He wandered closer and ran a finger down the back of the pedestal, following what looked like a panel that might open. He saw a small ‘v’ shape in the seam line and pressed it. The panel snapped open, revealing the inner workings. “Does that help you?” Red Alert asked.

Ironfist and Skyfire peered around the backside at the exposed inner part of the pedestal.

“I just assumed the mechanisms were inside the sphere! You’re brilliant, Red!” Ironfist said, squatting down next to him to get a good look.

As much as Red Alert did like Ironfist and felt somewhat safe around him, the small scientist was crowded too close for his comfort and he quickly stood up and stepped back. Skyfire then pulled Red Alert close hugged him from behind. “Thank you,” he said kissing one of his helm horns.

“You two are smart, but lack common sense sometimes,” Red Alert replied, leaning into the affectionate hug. He canted his head at Ironfist. “Can you copy it now?”

Ironfist clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Oh yes! We certainly can, Red! You’re the best!”

…

In the cargo hold almost everyone on board had gathered. Bluestreak looked around and saw only Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were missing. His gaze met with Red Alert’s for a moment, and Bluestreak smiled. Red Alert quickly averted his optics and grabbed hold of Skyfire’s arm. The large mech looked at Bluestreak, and sadly smiled as he held Red Alert against his side.

What a mess things had become for so many of them. Bluestreak dimmed his optics a little and looked back at Prowl standing at the front of their little gathering.

“Don’t take it personally, Blue,” Bumblebee said into his audio.

Bluestreak gently rubbed his thumbs against Bumblebee’s legs he was holding, despite knowing his companion probably couldn’t feel it. “I know,” Bluestreak quietly replied. He felt Bumblebee nuzzle his helm, and dimmed his optics in response.

“Thank you all for being here. The situation has evolved beyond what had been expected. On the tarmac right now, Tremorwave and his assistant, First Aid, are awaiting all of your helping hands to cart his chosen supplies and belongings down here to the ship,” Prowl explained. “While visiting Tremorwave’s compound, we were privy to a message sent to him that indicates we will not be fighting alone. We have a two-week window to prepare for what will literally be the fight of our lives alongside additional forces.”

“Where is Thundercracker and Jazz? Where is Shockwave?” Mirage asked.

Prowl looked over at him. “Shockwave left to retrieve Jazz and Thundercracker. They should be here soon.”

Bluestreak glanced at Mirage, who was clearly unsatisfied with the answer.

“Let’s set to work on the first task: unloading our new Chief Medic’s belongings,” Prowl said with finality, before leading them out of the hold and toward the stairwell.

Bumblebee reached over and pat Mirage’s shoulder. “Unloading things should be a good distraction, right?”

“I suppose,” Mirage replied.

On the tarmac Tremorwave was hauling items out of a cargo attachment linked to the back of his shuttle. It was semi-organized chaos as Prowl directed everyone as best he could. Bluestreak didn’t have his hands free to help, though.

“Almost forgot all about you,” Tremorwave said as he walked over to him and Bumblebee.

“Me?” Bluestreak asked.

“Not _you_ ,” Tremorwave replied with a raised optic ridge. He then looked at Bumblebee. “Didn’t think you were gonna make it to be perfectly honest. I see you’ve got the same sensory net damage as my assistant, but I have a good stop-gap solution for you. Follow me.” The medic whirled around and led them to his cargo hold attachment.

“He’s got so much junk in there, maybe he’ll have new legs for me?” Bumblebee said, chuckling.

Bluestreak shook his head. “Always looking on the bright side, hm?”

Tremorwave reappeared pushing a hoverchair. “I’m afraid it’s a little big for your size, but should work nonetheless.”

“Awesome,” Bluestreak said as he turned around to let Tremorwave help Bumblebee into the chair.

He was a little surprised to see Bumblebee frowning as Tremorwave explained the controls. Moving the chair around, Bumblebee seemed to quickly get a feel for it’s capabilities and hovered off down the tarmac a little ways. Bluestreak stayed close to him, and Tremorwave resumed unloading.

“Isn’t this great?” Bluestreak asked, trying to figure out why Bumblebee looked upset.

“Yeah, no, it’s… helpful,” Bumblebee replied, bringing the hoverchair to a stop.

Bluestreak wandered over and squatted down next to Bumblebee. “What’s wrong?”

Sadly smiling, Bumblebee shrank in on himself in the chair. “I dunno. I think I just–” he paused looking away from Bluestreak. “I like being close to you better. But, I’m a burden. I get that.”

“You _aren’t_ a burden,” Bluestreak quickly replied, taking hold of Bumblebee’s hands in his own. “But don’t you want your freedom back? To move around however you want?”

With bright blue optics, Bumblebee gazed at Bluestreak and sighed. “Yeah, it’s good to be able to get around.” He then pursed his lips for a moment. “But, _promise_ you’ll still want to hang out with me?”

“Don’t be silly,” Bluestreak replied. He stretched up, and pressed their forehelms together. “You took my pain away when no one else could. You’ve been the best friend I’ve had since before the war. And now…” he trailed off, tipping his head to press a gentle kiss to Bumblebee’s lips. “You’re even more than that.”

Smiling, Bumblebee swept his fingers down Bluestreak’s face.

Their quiet moment together was put on hold when the roar of another shuttle overhead drew everyone’s attention upward.

It was Shockwave’s shuttle.

The moment it landed, the side door flew open and Shockwave got out. He flagged Prowl over and after one look inside, Prowl ran to get Tremorwave. The chaotic scene turned to a panicked one as Mirage jogged over with Soundwave on his heels.

Bluestreak and Bumblebee watched in horror as both Jazz and Thundercracker’s unconscious bodies were removed from the shuttle. Soundwave carried Jazz in his arms, and moved quickly across the tarmac. Shockwave held Thundercracker tightly as he strode along behind Soundwave. Mirage jogged to keep pace with the larger mech’s longer steps, and the whole group headed toward the compound entrance with Prowl and Tremorwave running just ahead of them.

“We should go be with Mirage. He’s gonna be inconsolable,” Bumblebee said, putting his own issues aside.

Bluestreak squeezed his hand and gave a firm nod. “Let’s go.”

…

Sideswipe gently touched Sunstreaker’s chest. He was practically burning his plating was so hot. He’d fallen into a deep recharge shortly after Prowl left them earlier in the day and he hadn’t woken since. Worried, Sideswipe had stayed even when Prowl asked for help over the intercom earlier.

The door to their quarters whooshed open and closed in the next room. Sideswipe felt relief when Prowl appeared in the doorway to their berthroom.

“Hey, handsome,” Sideswipe said, smiling.

Prowl tiredly smiled back and walked over, sitting down on Sunstreaker’s opposite side. “How is Sunstreaker doing with the poison?”

Sideswipe sat up and frowned as he gazed at his brother. “He’s been recharging and his plating is hot to the touch.”

Pressing his white fingertips to Sunstreaker’s chest, Prowl frowned a little. “If he doesn’t wake in the next couple hours, I’ll go retrieve Tremorwave.”

“That medic is here?” Sideswipe asked.

“He is our new CMO,” Prowl replied.

“Seriously?” Sideswipe wondered how much he’d missed.

“A lot has happened in a very short span of time.” Prowl sighed, then looked at Sideswipe. “I find I’m in need of comfort.”

Sideswipe perked up at that, and was off the berth, holding Prowl’s hand seconds later. He pulled him into the front room of their quarters and sat down on the couch. Prowl didn’t resist, and once Sideswipe was seated, he straddled his lap facing him.

Prowl fingered his two scars on his chest. “We are going to war all over again. I know it’s the right thing to do, fighting for our ultimate freedom, but still. I’m not as sure about my ability to lead.”

“And that right there is why you’re a great leader for us. You think about what you do, about how it’s going to affect us. We matter to you,” Sideswipe replied with a warm smile as he placed his hands on Prowl’s hips.

Gaze softening, Prowl cupped Sideswipe’s face in his hands. “I have you to thank for softening my spark.” He leaned in, and their mouths met in a passionate kiss. Glossae tangling together, twisting around one another.

Sideswipe’s spark fluttered, so happy that he had Prowl in his life. He knew he’d be long dead if not for this mech. He slid his arms around Prowl, hugging him close.

The kiss finally broke, and Prowl’s optics were darker in hue. “I want you to make me forget everything outside this room. Just for a little bit.”

“Anything you want,” Sideswipe replied with a lop-sided grin.

His hands moved over Prowl’s frame slowly, taking in each shape of his lovely form. He’d never tire of touching this beautiful mech in his grasp. His hands made separate paths, one reaching behind to fondle a doorwing, and the other pushing between Prowl’s already parted legs to cup his heating interface cover.

Prowl moaned in response, bracing himself with both hands by pressing them to Sideswipe’s chest.

“Open up,” Sideswipe said, tapping the closed cover with a fingertip.

Complying, the cover retracted, and Sideswipe rimmed the edge of Prowl’s valve with his fingers. Prowl gyrated his hips against them, clearly wanting more. Sliding a forefinger in and hooking it, Sideswipe rubbed the already dewey mesh just inside.

“Tell me what you want,” Sideswipe said, adding another finger and drawing circles against the heated mesh.

Prowl whimpered a little, his hands grasping at Sideswipe’s shoulders tightly. “I want to ride you until I forget about everything outside the walls of this place.”

That was more than enough to cause Sideswipe’s own spike to pressurize and almost painfully press against the closed cover. “Ride me, hm?”

Prowl leaned forward, mouthing Sideswipe’s lower lip. “Yes. I love feeling connected to you.”

“And I love filling you up,” Sideswipe replied with a rumble to voice. His cover retracted and his spike jutted forth. Prowl smiled at the sight of it, and let go of his shoulders to wrap both hands around the length and pump it slowly.

Sideswipe moaned and let his head fall against the couch back. “Frag, Prowl…”

“That’s the idea,” Prowl replied with a lightness to his voice Sideswipe only ever heard when they were intimate.

“Then hop on for a ride,” Sideswipe replied with a little laugh. Prowl smiled and did just that, lifting himself into a kneeling position, then sitting back down over top of his spike. Sliding into the smooth, slick heat of Prowl’s valve, drew a low moan from Sideswipe. He then slipped both hands under Prowl’s aft and sat forward a little. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Prowl breathed, once again grabbing hold of Sideswipe’s shoulders.

Sideswipe lifted Prowl up by aft and rocked his hips forward as he lowered him again, sinking to the hilt with a moan. Prowl whimpered and let his head roll back. Sideswipe repeated the motion with practiced skill over and over, impaling Prowl’s shivering body and throbbing hot valve with abandon.

The world shrunk down around just them; their bodies moving fluidly together and the lovely sounds Prowl made as he was driven toward overload. Prowl’s voice cut out, and he squeezed Sideswipe’s shoulders tight. Sideswipe thrust deep, feeling the constriction of Prowl’s valve as he tipped over the edge and overloaded. Pressing his face against Prowl’s neck, Sideswipe shivered at the feeling of his spike squeezed.

Once Prowl finally went slack in his grasp, Sideswipe mouthed his throat. “Ready for for the finish?” he said with a growl.

“Of course,” Prowl replied, voice airy.

This time Prowl did all the work, rocking and gyrating over Sideswipe’s spike until he also overloaded with a roar a few moments later, practically crushing Prowl in his arms with his moment of release.

Leaning back against the couch with Prowl hugged to his chest, Sideswipe hummed approvingly. “We’re really good at that.”

Prowl chuckled a little. “Yes, well, we’ve practiced quite a bit.”

Nuzzling Prowl’s chevron, Sideswipe felt the warm flutter of his spark fill his chest. He adored this mech in his arms just as much he did his brother. It meant everything to him that Prowl was open to having them both in his life like this.

“I missed something good, hm?”

They both looked up at Sunstreaker standing with both hands grasping the doorway. He looked like he might fall over if he let go.

“Sunny, you shouldn’t be up,” Sideswipe replied.

Prowl quickly slid off Sideswipe’s lap, snapping his cover back in place and moving to offer Sunstreaker a hand. “Your brother is right. Come lay back down.”

Sideswipe got up, and filled a glass with energon before following the two back into the berthroom.

“I’m actually feeling a lot better,” Sunstreaker replied as he sat.

Pressing a hand to Sunstreaker’s chest, Prowl canted his head. “You’re no longer running hot.”

Sideswipe handed off the fuel, and his brother tipped the glass up, gulping it all down in one go. He sighed as he handed the empty glass back. “Can I have a little more?”

“Anything you want,” Sideswipe replied with grin. He leaned down and kissed Sunstreaker on the cheek before bounding into the front room to refill the glass. When he returned he paused to watch Prowl and his brother deeply kissing. “You two look hot together,” Sideswipe said after a long moment.

The kiss broke, and Sunstreaker shyly smiled and took the refilled glass Sideswipe held out for him. Prowl grabbed hold of Sideswipe’s free hand and squeezed it while he gazed lovingly up at him. Things were finally starting to come together for them. Sideswipe prayed to Primus they’d win their ‘ultimate fight’ for freedom so they could settle into a life with one another without anymore looming threats. He wasn’t sure when his dream life had become a desire to settle down with the mechs that meant the world to him, but that was all he wanted now. And he’d fight for that wish of a peaceful life with all he had.

…

Mirage had refused to return to the barracks, sitting at the base of the regen tank Thundercracker was floating in. Bumblebee watched Bluestreak peek in on Jazz just before they left and frowned a little.

Bluestreak wandered back over to Bumblebee and sadly smiled.

“How is he?” Bumblebee asked, doing his best to hide the small flare of jealousy in his spark.

“The readings on the monitors look good, and Soundwave and all his little cassettes are in there with him,” Bluestreak replied with a shrug. “He’ll be alright.” He glanced across medbay at the regen tank. “Wish the same could be said for Thundercracker.”

Bumblebee gazed at the sad sight of Mirage staring off at nothing, sitting leaned against the tank base. “Yeah. But, he doesn’t want us hovering.”

“I know,” Bluestreak replied. “Guess we should go back to the room, then?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day,” Bumblebee replied.

Reluctantly, Bluestreak and Bumblebee left Mirage behind in medbay and returned their quarters.

Back in the room, Bluestreak scooped Bumblebee up out of his hover chair and set him on the berth. He gazed at Bluestreak as he pushed the chair over to the side, all his worries and self doubt from earlier returning.

He hadn’t been in a relationship with anyone in eons. Not since the mech he’d once loved with all his spark left the planet at the start of the war. They had completely different ideals, which hadn’t been exposed until the war began to take hold. Bumblebee resigned himself to not looking for love again after that. But the moment he’d woken up to Bluestreak’s voice, after he was so sure he was dead, it felt like he was being given a second chance. One he didn’t want to squander on a lonely life.

Bluestreak plopped down next to him on the berth and sighed. “I'm sure Thundercracker will wake up, but I feel bad for Mirage.”

Bumblebee smiled a little at that, loving Bluestreak’s unbendable hope. He was like a beacon of light who’d helped bring Bumblebee back after he’d been enveloped by darkness. “Me too.”

“Nothing to do but wait, I guess,” Bluestreak replied. He turned and wrapped his arms around Bumblebee, swinging his doorwings back to lay down sideways on the berth and hug him against his chest.

Practically giddy at the warmth and physical interaction, Bumblebee dimmed his optics and snuggled in close as best he could. Part of him was still unsure if Bluestreak’s whole saying he wanted more was actually the truth or just a reply out of pity. After all, it wasn’t like he was another beautiful Praxian, or even in the best-looking shape with his broken horns and scarred frame. How could someone as pretty as Bluestreak really want to be with him? Especially if Jazz was his usual type; handsome, bold, take-charge. Bumblebee was none of those things.

“You’re being quieter than usual,” Bluestreak commented, nuzzling one of his broken horns.

“Don’t mean to be. Just processing everything is all,” Bumblebee replied.

“Like your new hover chair?” Bluestreak prompted.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Bumblebee replied, gently running his fingers over Bluestreak’s chestplate.

“What was with that promise earlier?” Bluestreak asked.

Wincing a little, Bumblebee pressed his face against Bluestreak’s neck, not wanting to show how insecure he was about all this. “It’s nothing.”

“Why don’t I believe that?” Bluestreak asked.

“Probably because I’m not being totally truthful,” Bumblebee admitted.

Bluestreak gave him a squeeze. “Tell me what’s going on, Bee. _Please?_ ”

Sighing, Bumblebee kept his face hidden against Bluestreak. “You’re you, and I’m me.”

“What does that mean?” Bluestreak asked.

“You’re gorgeous and sweet and young and fun to hang out with. I’m broken and old. Plus, I’m just a minibot, and completely out of your league. Why would you ever want to be with someone like me? Especially since your type is someone like Jazz?” Bumblebee winced at his rambled confession, his spark pulsing hard in his chest with fear of rejection.

Bluestreak hugged Bumblebee tighter. “You’ve got the most amazing spark of anyone I’ve ever met. You’re strong, wise, and the best friend I’ve ever had. How could I not want to have more with you? And yeah, you’re a minibot, but does that matter? In terms of, uh, well, you-know-what, I guess it might. But there’s other things we do if regular interfacing is off the table…”

Snorting a little laugh, Bumblebee tilted his head back to finally look into Bluestreak’s optics. “Not that I like bringing up my extremely distant past love life, but I can promise you from experience we aren’t too different in size to interface.”

Bluestreak smiled at that. “And about things with Jazz, I don’t know that I really have a type other than someone being nice to me? Truth is, he was the only thing I saw from outside that apartment for months on end. You came after Mirage softened up Thundercracker. I was confined to that back section before that.” His optics dimmed as he frowned. “Seeing Jazz for a couple hours each week kept me from losing my mind completely.”

Bumblebee had been told Thundercracker changed after Mirage arrived, but he had no idea Bluestreak had been a prisoner in isolation like that. “Blue… I didn’t realize.”

Forcing a small smile, Bluestreak shrugged. “I know. I don’t talk about it. I just want you to understand why I was even with Jazz in the first place. I didn’t choose. Thundercracker probably could’ve brought anyone over and I would’ve gotten just as attached.” He then pressed a kiss to Bumblebee’s forehelm. “But I’m _choosing_ you.”

“Blue…” Bumblebee reached up and cupped Bluestreak’s face, pulling him closer for a kiss. Their mouths met, and his spark felt like it was going to explode with all the adoration he felt for this wonderful mech. The kiss quickly deepened, and there was a definite stir in Bumblebee’s array. Breaking the kiss with a soft gasp, he gazed at him with darkened optics. “Did I also mention how you melt my gears?”

Grinning, Bluestreak rolled them over so Bumblebee was on his back. “So, since we’re being truthful and all, how long has it been for you?” Bluestreak asked as he began to kiss his way down Bumblebee’s smaller frame.

Arching as best he could into those warm lips against his plating, Bumblebee hummed approvingly. “Honestly? It’s been eons.”

Bluestreak paused at that, looking up at him. “Really?”

Heat pooled in Bumblebee’s faceplates. “Got my spark broken and swore I wouldn’t ever let it happen again.”

Placing a lingering kiss to the center of Bumblebee’s chest, Bluestreak dimmed his optics. “I won’t let it happen again, either. Promise.”

A mad flutter overtook Bumblebee’s spark as gazed lovingly at Bluestreak. “Careful now. I might fall even harder for you.”

“Good.” Bluestreak kissed a line down Bumblebee’s abdomen.

Bumblebee hadn’t been touched like this so long, every kiss was leaving his plating burning with desire. He fingered Bluestreak’s chevron, earning his a cute little moan of approval. Bluestreak was apparently on a mission, though, soon mouthing the closed, heating cover of Bumblebee’s interface array. He couldn’t hold back very long, and embarrassingly the cover snapped open revealing his very much onlined spike that stood up to greet Bluestreak.

His faceplates heated even more. “Sorry.”

Confusion clouded Bluestreak’s face. “Sorry for what?”

“Being over eager?” Bumblebee replied, fingering his chest nervously.

“You said eons, right?” Bluestreak said, raising an optic ridge. “Plus, I take it as a compliment.” He smiled as he flicked his glossa out and licked up the shaft.

Bumblebee shivered and moaned as heat and pleasure flooded his lower body. “I-ah-I won’t last long…”

“Then I’ll go nice and slow,” Bluestreak replied, before swirling his glossa over the head.

“Primus,” Bumblebee gasped, unconsciously lifting his hips upward.

Bluestreak pulled off, and shook his head. “Nice and slow,” he repeated.

Treated to a series of licks and soft sucks between pauses, Bumblebee’s array built up a strong charge that had him moaning and writhing on the berth. He whined when Bluestreak sank his whole mouth over his spike and held it there for a long beat before pulling off again. He desperately wanted to tip over over the edge, but he was also very much enjoying Bluestreak’s talented glossa and mouth.

Grasping at the berth, Bumblebee knew only a couple more of those kind of moves and he was done for. He gazed down at Bluestreak, marveling at how sexy and beautiful he was all at once. How had he gotten this lucky?

Bluestreak’s mouth enveloped his spike again and he very slowly pulled back, making sure to suck the head hard.

“Primus!” Bumblebee’s whole frame shivered, and his overload that had been barely held at bay came rushing forth.

Bluestreak’s lips let go just as Bumblebee’s spike exploded, partly splattering over his face before he quickly reacted and captured it again with his mouth, milking every last drop. Whether is was the lack of use over time, or Bluestreak’s expert skill, Bumblebee was caught up in one of the most intense overloads he’d ever experienced and it seemed to last forever.

Panting hard as he came down from the high, he refocused his gaze on Bluestreak who was carefully lapping up anything he’d missed. Staring the splatter on his face, Bumblebee felt a tingle of heat flicker in his array again. Primus, he was a dirty old mech. He reached down and gently wiped at some of it with his thumb. “I made a mess of you,” he commented, voice more hoarse-sounding than he expected.

“You lasted longer than I thought.” Bluestreak grabbed his smaller wrist and licked the fluid off his thumb.

“Frag,” Bumblebee rasped as he felt that vague tingle shift to a deep stir.

“So, um, I won’t hurt you if we-if _I_ spike you?” Bluestreak asked with a sheepish smile.

It was a little funny to see Bluestreak be so unsure of himself, especially in light of how unashamed he’d been moments before.

“Yeah. I actually like bigger mechs…” Bumblebee trailed off, offering his own sheepish smile. “Just go slow until my body adjusts is all.”

Bluestreak sat back on his heels and his interface cover opened to reveal his equally beautiful spike. It was silver like his plating with two red lines running up each side. Was there anything about this mech that wasn’t incredibly gorgeous? He was suddenly very grateful that Bluestreak hadn’t ended up in someone else’s hands, being used and abused like so many of them had.

Palming his spike with one hand, Bluestreak carefully pressed his thumb into Bumblebee’s valve, clearly intending to stretch it. But Bumblebee knew he’d just end up overloading again, and he wanted to do that filled with that beautiful spike. He grabbed Bluestreak’s wrist with both hands to still him.

“There’s lubricant in the drawer over there. I stole it from medbay the other day. If you keep going–” he squeezed Bluestreak’s wrist in his grasp. “I’ll overload before you even do anything. Normally not a big deal, but I don’t think my stamina is what it once was.”

Withdrawing his thumb, Bluestreak leaned forward and kissed Bumblebee sweetly, leaving the lingering scent and taste of his own overload on his lips. “Okay. Don’t move.”

Bumblebee snorted a laugh at that, poking Bluestreak in the side as he got off the berth. “Jokes at my expense, I see how it is.”

Bluestreak simply smiled in reply, locating the stolen container of lubricant. Returning to the berth, he twisted off the top and dipped his fingertip into it. "Did you steal it before or after we kissed?"

"Before," Bumblebee admitted.

Laughing a little at that, Bluestreak carefully spread the lubricant over his spike. "Just how long have you had this thing for me and I didn't notice?"

“Since I woke up to you reading to me,” Bumblebee replied with a small smile.

“Really?” Bluestreak looked surprised.

Shrugging, Bumblebee nodded. How could he have not fallen for the mech that had been caring for him despite his invalid condition?

Setting the container aside, Bluestreak crawled forward, leaning over to kiss him. “So, how do I do this without hurting you?”

Gazing into his pretty optics, Bumblebee warmly smiled. “Just go slow to start.”

“I can do that,” Bluestreak replied.

Unable to move his legs, Bumblebee had to rely on Bluestreak to position them, which he carefully did before he laid over top of him, his larger frame surrounding him almost completely. Bumblebee pressed his hands against the smooth, curved chestplate above him and mouthed the base of Bluestreak’s neck. He’d always prefered larger mechs for all sorts of reasons, including the feeling of them all around and within him at once.

Heat rippled over his plating as he felt that pretty spike gently nudge against his valve. He wished he could move his legs, but at the very least he could part his thighs as much as possible as Bluestreak slowly pushed into his valve. He curled his fingers against Bluestreak’s plating, repressing a whine as he was stretched. Optics dimmed, he tried to relax as much as possible, letting his valve adjust.

“Hold here?” Bluestreak asked in an airy voice.

“Yeah,” Bumblebee replied, voice wavering a little. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to be so full of someone else. It hurt and felt wonderful all at once. This wasn’t just anyone else, though. He pressed his face against Bluestreak, drinking in his scent, his warmth, his everything. “You can move.”

With all the tenderness Bluestreak had always shown him, he shifted his hips and withdrew partway before pressing forward again. Bumblebee moaned at that, his whole frame shivering as his array rippled with pleasure from such a small movement. Bluestreak repeated the shallow, gentle thrusts, rendering Bumblebee a quivering mass beneath him.

“Primus,” Bumblebee groaned, his valve squeezing around the spike buried in him.

Bluestreak moaned his agreement.

Heat rolled off Bluestreak’s frame, and he was only barely rocking his hips. Bumblebee mouthed his collar fairing, knowing that this kind of interfacing was a lot more intense. “You won’t hurt me,” Bumblebee said, voice thin and wavering. “You can move more.”

“If you’re sure,” Bluestreak breathlessly replied.

With deeper thrusts, Bluestreak’s pace picked up, but was still just as gentle as when he started. Bumblebee keened, pleasure roiling through his array. Curling overtop of Bumblebee, Bluestreak panted and whimpered. Each thrust pushed Bumblebee closer and closer toward another overload.

“Close,” Bumblebee whimpered.

Bluestreak grunted in reply.

From the throb of Bluestreak’s spike against the mesh of his valve, Bumblebee knew he wasn’t the only one on the precipice. Only a few more deep thrusts later, he gasped before crying out as a sharp, lovely overload claimed him. He was so lost in his own moment of pleasure, he didn’t register the spill of fluid until he felt a warm trickle running down his aft. The fog of euphoria parted enough that he caught the tail end of Bluestreak’s full body shudder and long, low moan as he overloaded, too.

“Holy slag,” Bluestreak said as he sagged, his weight pressing down over Bumblebee.

Smiling at that, Bumblebee dimmed his optics. Happiness he’d not known in eons fluttered around inside his spark. He didn’t know what he’d done to earn him a relationship with such an amazing mech, but he was grateful.

Eventually shifting, Bluestreak slipped his spike free and bundled Bumblebee up in his arms as he laid on his side again. “I didn’t hurt you, right?” he quietly asked as he kissed a broken helm horn.

“Not even a little,” Bumblebee replied, tipping his head to place little kisses to Bluestreak’s jawline.

“That was so intense,” Bluestreak said with obvious awe.

“It’s partly the slow build up,” Bumblebee replied, pressing closer. “And my being a tight fit for you.”

“Well, I’m up for that anytime you are,” Bluestreak replied, squeezing Bumblebee tightly.

Chuckling at that, he nuzzled Bluestreak’s neck. He’d never been this lovesick before. He wanted to savor every moment of it. So what if Bluestreak was practically half his age, and completely out of his league? There was a very real affection and love between them. In the end, that was all that really mattered to him.

…

Mirage woke with a start. He bolted upright in a medical berth, disoriented. He’d been sitting a the base of the regen tank, hadn’t he? “The regen tank–” He flew off the berth and left the small room he’d been in, coming to a halt in front of the the now empty tank.

“Where is he?” Mirage called out, looking around desperately.

First Aid emerged from a nearby room in his hover chair. “Resting comfortably. I can show you to his room.”

“Who put me in the other room?” Mirage asked, annoyed he’d recharged through Thundercracker’s extraction from the tank.

“Tremor, um. Well, he may have given you something to help you rest, and then might’ve put you in there so you'd be out of the way when he took Thundercracker out,” First Aid replied as he rubbed his chin.

Fuming, Mirage squeezed his hands into fists. “Never thought I’d actually miss Ratchet,” he muttered. “I want to see Thundercracker. _Now._ ”

“Follow me,” First Aid quickly replied.

Mirage was led to a row of private rooms in the back area of the ship’s medbay. First Aid came to stop by one of the rooms, and Mirage peered inside. Wires and monitors crowded the small space with Thundercracker at the epicenter.

“What’s his current condition?” Mirage asked, spark contracting with fear.

“He’s not woken up yet. Tremor took him out of the tank when his vitals stabilized,” First Aid replied.

Frowning, Mirage glanced at First Aid. “May I sit with him?”

“Yeah, of course,” First Aid replied. “I know Tremor doesn’t believe in it, but I think touching patients and talking to them when they’re in this condition helps them heal.”

Mirage smiled a little at that, suspecting the only reason Bumblebee hadn’t passed on was due to Bluestreak’s diligent care of him when he was offlined. “Thank you.”

Stepping into the room, Mirage pulled a chair up to the edge of the medical berth, and sat down. He wrapped his hands around Thundercracker’s nearest hand as he gazed at his face. “You’re not allowed to die. I say this in case you were thinking of letting this world go.” His gaze then slowly traversed the dented and damaged frame before him, pausing at what looked like a blast hole in his side currently covered with a crude piece of mis-colored plating. What had happened to him?

“I never thought I’d ever move past what was done to me,” Mirage said, looking back up at his offlined face. “But you were so patient. So understanding in how you treated me. You showed me respect and love I’ve never known before. It seems to be Primus’ way to rip the good things in life out of my hands, though.”

Lifting up Thundercracker’s hand, he pressed it to his face as tears threatened to escape. This was all he could bear. If Thundercracker died, Mirage had no plans on going on with life himself. He’d been through too much to want to go on again. This was it for him. Either Thundercracker woke, and he’d continue on living, or if not, then he’d follow him into the Well, assuming it was real.

…

Why was it so loud in here? Jazz grimaced at the layers of voices chattering away. Didn’t they know he was trying to rest? He lit his optics as the last staticy memories came rushing back; trying to scramble away from Skywarp with the invisibility cloak on, the wild shots striking him, Shockwave saving him at the last moment, and passing out as warm fluid pooled under his frame in the shuttle.

“Jazz?” Soundwave said, leaning over him.

Looking up into that red visor, Jazz smiled. “Hey there, handsome.”

Soundwave pulled him into his arms and hugged him tightly, practically crushing him.

“Big guy was really worried ‘bout you, Autobrat,” Frenzy said.

“I can see that,” Jazz wheezed.

Loosening his grasp, Soundwave laid Jazz back on the berth. “My apologies.”

Jazz chuckled and cupped his face in one hand. “You never have to be sorry for carin’ ‘bout me.”

Rumble snorted at that. “You two make my tank churn!”

“Yeesh. So mushy and in _love_ ,” Frenzy teased.

“Says the two little Pit spawns I saw all painted up to look like us,” Jazz shot back.

Rumble and Frenzy looked at Jazz with matching grins.

Soundwave sat back and touched his chestplate. “Rumble, Frenzy, return.”

“Aww, come on!” Rumble whined.

“We were just kidding around,” Frenzy added.

“Time alone with Jazz is necessary,” Soundwave replied, sounding stern despite his monotone.

“ _Fine_ ,” the replied in unison.

Soundwave’s special subspace pocket opened and the brothers leapt up, transforming and storing themselves. After it closed, Soundwave retracted his mask and leaned over Jazz again, kissing him this time. As the kiss broke, Jazz grinned up at him. “You store ‘em just so we can make out?”

Soundwave smiled a little and gently trailed his fingers down Jazz’s cheek. “Perhaps. And thank you.”

“Thank you?” Jazz asked, pressing into the touch.

“You kept your promise,” Soundwave replied. “Though, you were almost irrevocably damaged.”

“Shockwave got there just in time,” Jazz replied. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d make it. I’m a bit out of practice, I guess.”

“Skywarp’s warping ability is formidable,” Soundwave replied, his fingers trailing down Jazz’s body slowly.

Dimming his optics at the touches, Jazz softly sighed.

“How are you feeling?” Soundwave asked.

“With your hand wandering over me? Turned on,” Jazz replied with a impish smile.

Soundwave’s smile grew wider as he shook his head. “You can be quite insatiable.”

“Like you aren’t?” Jazz teased back. “Besides, what better way to celebrate not being dead than a nice overload?” He reached up, sliding a thumb over Soundwave’s lower lip. “Especially with your spike buried in me,” he murmured in a lower voice.

Soundwave’s visor brightened, then darkened in hue. “Your words have a strong effect,” he said before he mouthed Jazz’s thumb, glossa flicking out to swirl around it.

“Never would’ve pegged you as one to like dirty talk, but glad you enjoy my guttermind,” Jazz replied, optics sharply focused on erotic sight of Soundwave licking and suckling his thumb.

Pushing a hand down, Soundwave cupped Jazz’s interface cover, rubbing the closed cover. Arching his hips into his large hand, Jazz whined. “The door is open, and we’re in medbay. Should I add exhibitionist to the list of kinks I’ve discovered you’ve got?” Jazz asked, heat rippling over his plating.

Soundwave paused licking his thumb. “You requested a reward.”

“You make things so simple sometimes, you know that?” Jazz asked, spreading his legs wider for Soundwave’s groping fingers.

“I am simply overjoyed at your return to me,” Soundwave replied, leaning in to capture Jazz’s lips in another, deeper kiss.

Too turned on to care, Jazz let his cover snap back. Soundwave sank his finger into his already hot, slicked valve, and he gyrated his hips against that thick digit buried in him, wanting more.

The kiss broke with a soft gasp from both of them and Jazz shivered from the pleasure blooming between his legs as Soundwave continued to finger his valve.

“Frag,” Jazz moaned.

Soundwave stood, and carefully scooped Jazz up in his arms, sitting back in the chair beside the berth with Jazz curled up in his lap. Letting his legs part again, Soundwave resumed pumping his fingers in and out of his valve. Now that he was closer, Jazz mouthed Soundwave’s lips and they traded soft-mouthed kisses.

“Love you,” Jazz whispered against Soundwave’s lips.

Soundwave paused his hand and gazed at Jazz. “And I love you,” he quietly replied.

Jazz’s spark fluttered madly in his chest at that, and he wanted more than anything to be connected bodily to Soundwave. He shifted in his lap, straddling larger thighs. “Open up.”

Soundwave obeyed, the cover retracting to reveal an onlined spike that stood up between them. Jazz squeezed it a few times with both hands, then smiled as he let go to scoot forward. He lifted up and over the large spike, then sat down on it, letting it slide slowly inside, filling him to the point where the mesh was strained from the stretch. He sighed at how good it felt, fingers grasping tightly at Soundwave’s shoulders.

Large hands pet Jazz’s frame. “You are so beautiful,” Soundwave commented.

“Sweet talk will get you everywhere with me,” Jazz replied with a half-smile.

He then slowly gyrated his hips, allowing his valve to stretch and accommodate the girth splitting him open. Soundwave stifled a moan, hands resting on Jazz’s hips and squeezing. He began to slowly lift up and then sink back down once his valve finally adjusted.

Soundwave’s hands guided him as he began to ride the thick spike between his legs. Jazz’s fingers held so tight to Soundwave, they threatened to leave little indents. He threw his head back and groaned as his entire array throbbed with heat and pleasure.

Lost in one another, Jazz forgot where they were. All that registered, all that mattered to him was how amazing it felt to be impaled over and over while his spark fluttered like crazy. It was pleasure on a different level, leaving his whole body quivering with barely contained bliss.

Overload came on a short time later, causing Jazz to sharply cry out, his valve squeezing hard around Soundwave’s spike. He was then pulled down so Soundwave was fully seated inside him while he groaned and shuddered with his own overload. Hot fluid flooded Jazz, electrical charges sending a secondary overload through his already twitching frame.

Sagging forward against Soundwave’s hot plating, Jazz softly panted. “Frag,” he murmured.

Arms wrapped around him, and he felt Soundwave kiss and nuzzle his helm horn. Smiling in response, Jazz snuggled in closer and dimmed his optics. He felt safe and loved in Soundwave’s arms. Something he’d never felt with anyone else before. A touch of guilt tinged his happiness when he thought of how much he’d hurt Bluestreak, though. Not that he could ever tell either of them, he knew he’d never have found this love with Soundwave had it not been for Bluestreak being his first real relationship that lasted more than a few weeks.

“ _Really?_ ”

They both looked over at the doorway. Tremorwave stood there holding a container in his arms, looking completely shocked. “If you’re well enough to interface, then consider yourself discharged. Yeesh, ever heard of closing a door?” Tremorwave elbowed the controls and the door snapped shut.

Jazz snickered, giving Soundwave a devious look. “Am I imagining things, or did you just get harder again when he caught us?”

Soundwave smiled and nodded.

Laughing, Jazz cupped Soundwave’s face and kissed him. “You’re the most amazing mech I’ve ever met.” He then rolled his hips. “Wanna go one more time?”

“As many times as you would like,” Soundwave replied.

“Primus, I love you.” Jazz chuckled.

…

“How are the final preparations going?” Shockwave asked as he watched Prowl direct a handful of others in packing up and moving the parts of the lab Ironfist wanted to have transferred to the ship.

“Well, so far,” Prowl replied.

Sunstreaker lifted a box as he watched Shockwave with a sharp optic. He was standing really close to Prowl, and a couple times he’d even seen him put his hand on him.

“Sunny, you holding up okay?” Sideswipe asked, pausing with his arms full next to him.

“Yeah, feeling back to my usual self mostly,” Sunstreaker replied. He followed his brother out to the hallway, setting his container on the hover transport. Before Sideswipe headed back in, he grabbed his arm. “What’s with Shockwave and the touchy feely stuff with Prowl?”

Sideswipe vaguely frowned at that. “A little crush he’s had since I got here, but don’t mention it. Prowl–” he paused. “Just let Prowl deal with it.”

Sunstreaker didn’t really like that answer, but nodded anyway.

Back inside the lab, Sunstreaker returned to the back where Ironfist was busily packing up more containers.

“Good thing it’s a big ship!” Ironfist said in a cheery tone.

Sunstreaker shook his head, unsure what to think of the small scientist. He was about to pick up the sealed container Ironfist pushed toward him when he caught sight of something moving in the junk pile. He froze, looking over and squinting his optics. Nothing more moved, and he vaguely wondered if that poison had damaged his optics or something.

“You okay, Sunny?” Smokescreen asked.

“Everyone keeps asking me that,” Sunstreaker muttered as he picked up the container.

“Well, we care? I care?” Smokescreen replied, looking worried but also a little hurt.

“Sorry. I know,” Sunstreaker replied. He then half-smiled. “Poison is all gone, and I’m doing better.”

Smokescreen nodded. “It’s kinda weird, we went from spending every minute together to hardly seeing each other. And now I don’t know what to say when I see you.”

Sunstreaker sadly frowned. “Just say what comes to mind.”

Nodding, Smokescreen picked up a bundle of large tubes. “So other than the poison, are things better with _them?_ ” Smokescreen jerked his head in Prowl and Sideswipe’s direction across the room.

“Yeah, they are. Good, actually.” Sunstreaker flashed a grin. “And you and ‘Hide?”

Smokescreen’s doorwings practically fluttered at his question. “Good. We, ah, share the same kind of misery and somehow it makes things not seem so bad.”

Sunstreaker chuckled a little. “Know how that goes.”

Behind Smokescreen, he saw movement in the junk pile again, and this time he knew he hadn’t been just seeing things. He dropped the container and walked past Smokescreen.

“Sunny?” Smokscreen asked, looking confused.

Sunstreaker stepped into the pile, seeing the spilt energon from when he’d accidentally gotten Sideswipe stabbed. He paused, looking at the dried, discolored stain on a piece of scrap metal when the junk pile just beyond shifted and pieces tumbled down. “There’s something here. _Alive_ ,” Sunstreaker said loudly, proceeding further into the unstable mound.

“ _What?_ ” Ironfist yelled back.

“No way! You sure?” Smokescreen asked.

In his peripheral, Sunstreaker saw Sideswipe, Prowl, Shockwave and Ironhide all gather to watch him as he moved in deeper.

“Be careful, it’s unstable on that end!” Ironfirst called out.

Crouching down, Sunstreaker peered into what looked like an opening. Four little optics stared back at him. “What in the name of–”

A small, four-legged insecticon leapt out, knocking Sunstreaker on his aft. It chirred at him, then scampered off, digging into the junk and disappearing again.

“Was that an _insecticon?_ ” Prowl shouted as he started to wade into the junk.

Sunstreaker sat up, and held out his hand to halt Prowl. “Yeah, it was. But not a killer kind. He looks like a runt or something.”

After being caught under a writhing, biting pile of them, Sunstreaker knew from one look that this one wasn’t anything like the others. He pulled away some of the pieces of scrap near where it had tunneled in again.

“Where did you go?” Sunstreaker asked, peering into the darker parts of the junk. “I won’t hurt you. Come on out.”

More pieces tumbled down off the mound, and he heard a chir again. He started dig where he heard it, and when he removed a round panel piece off a generator, he came face-to-face with the insecticon.

It’s four optics brightened, and it tried to back further into the pile.

“Whoa, don’t do that. The whole thing might come down. Come on out. You won’t get hurt as long as you don’t try to hurt us. You understand?” Sunstreaker had no idea if it understood language or not, but when it made a distressed sound and tried to flatten down in it’s hole in a vain attempt in hiding, he figured it didn’t have a clue what he said.

He turned to yell. “Anyone got–” he paused when he saw Prowl standing right behind him. “Sorry, didn’t know you were right there. You got any energon treats?”

Prowl looked worried. “I don’t. Are you sure we shouldn’t dispatch it?”

“Don’t you think there’s been enough death already? Why kill it? It’s not a threat.” Sunstreaker looked across at his brother who was trying to pick his way over through the junk. “You got any energon treats on you?”

“Sunny, we still don’t have our sub-space pockets turned back on. Where the frag would I put a pack of snacks?” Sideswipe replied.

“I have some,” Shockwave said as he removed a small container from his sub-space and tossed it to Sideswipe.

“Thanks,” Sideswipe replied. He then waded over and handed off the box to Sunstreaker.

Still crouched down in front of the wayward insecticon, Sunstreaker took out a treat and offered it. The insecticon scooted closer, and a long tube-like tongue flicked out to poke at the treat. After carefully examining it, the tongue wrapped around it and sucked it back into his mouth. His four-eyes dimmed and he made a funny little chirp sound.

“He liked it?” Sideswipe asked.

Prowl frowned. “What is your plan?”

“Plan?” Sunstreaker scooted back a little, and offered another treat, coaxing the insecticon out. “Get him out of the mound of junk that might land on our heads any second, I guess.”

He felt a hand press the top of his helm and looked up. Prowl warmly smiled down at him. “Then proceed. If you need our assistance, we’re here.”

Sunstreaker understood how much trust Prowl was placing in him, and he couldn’t deny how good that felt. He half-smiled, then resumed coaxing the creature out, treat by treat until they were finally in a flatter area. Kneeling in front of it, he pet the insecticons head, and it actually made a happy clicking noise, pushing up into his hand

“He likes you,” Smokescreen said, walking over.

“What should be done with him?” Shockwave asked, optic focusing on Prowl.

“I’ll leave it’s fate up to Sunstreaker. What would you suggest?” Prowl asked, attention focusing back on him.

He looked into the insecticon’s face, it’s four optics staring up at him full of hope for more treats as it wriggled its aft. He was pretty cute for a being a member of a mutated species. “For now, I want to keep it. As a pet.”

“You almost died to a giant pile of those things, and you wanna make this one a pet?” Ironhide asked. “How much poison you still got in your system?” he said, clearly teasing.

Sunstreaker smirked at Ironhide.

“He will be your responsibility,” Prowl said, raising an optic ridge at it. “You’ll need to tend to it, be sure it’s fed and keep it out of trouble on board.”

“So, wait, we get to keep him in our room, right? Maybe we can teach him tricks?” Sideswipe excitedly said with bright optics.

“Our room…” Prowl repeated, suddenly realizing the implications of his allowing Sunstreaker to keep it.

“Yeah, where else?” Sideswipe replied.

Prowl fluffed out his doorwings and took on an authoritative stance, giving a sharp nod. “Yes, where else indeed. He will stay with us.”

Smokescreen crouched down next to Sunstreaker and tentatively pet the insecticon’s head, earning another happy chir sound. “He’s pretty adorable for one of those things.”  
“Yeah,” Sunstreaker replied, looking into his new pet’s four optics and smiling a little as it chirred happily. In a weird sort of way, Sunstreaker could relate to this creature that didn’t really fit in anywhere, but then accidentally ended up right where he belonged. Sounded a lot like his life.


	21. Visions of a Future?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they prepare for hopefully their last fight for freedom, they each start to imagine what kind of future awaits them if they are successful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting this collection of scenes I'd been wanting to write to take up a whole chapter, but here it is. Next chapter is definitely the final battle and end to the series, though! Thanks for bearing with me...

Reality slowly began to dial in around Thundercracker. Pain and the inability to move were the first things to register, quickly followed by memories of fleeing the apartment building with Jazz in his grasp and the shots Skywarp fired at him. Lighting his optics, he glanced at where he’d taken the hits from Skywarp. A gaping hole in his side was currently covered in a crude piece of bolted metal overtop.

Warmth against his other side drew his attention and he shifted his gaze, seeing Mirage sitting in a chair next to his berth, upper body slumped on the berth, pressing against his other side as he recharged. With concerted effort Thundercracker lifted his arm up and gently swept his fingertips down Mirage’s offlined visage. He was so pretty. And Thundercracker knew he so unworthy of his devotion.

After all he’d done and how far he’d fallen from who he wanted to be, Thundercracker felt like a failure. He’d pretended he was starting over, free of his trine once the war ended. But in reality he was still locked into his long ago choice to leave his family to join Starscream and Skywarp. Mirage deserved someone not marred by so much darkness and death.

The light touches to his face woke Mirage. His blue optics lit, and he looked at Thundercracker, shock and relief washing over his face. “Thundercracker, you’re awake!” He sat up, optics bright as he took hold of Thundercracker’s hand between both of his. “Should I got get Tremorwave? Are you in a lot of pain?”

Sadly smiling, Thundercracker shook his head. “Any pain I’m in is deserved.” His voice was filled with more static than he expected, and he winced a little at how rough he sounded.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mirage replied. Scooting forward, he leaned in close, and gently kissed Thundercracker’s lips.

Weakly returning the kiss, his spark twisted in his chest.

Mirage stared deeply into his optics. “I was so terrified I’d lost you.”

“Mirage…” Thundercracker dimmed his optics. “I’m sorry. I was unable to remain pure for you.”

“You did what you had to to survive.” Mirage kissed him again, then pressed their forehelms together. “I don’t fault you for anything you had to do. All that matters is that you’re here with me now.”

“You deserve someone more worthy,” Thundercracker replied, voice almost choking on the words. “I’m… I’m not a good mech. Certainly not good enough for you.”

Pulling back, Mirage frowned at him. “Don’t you dare push me away.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Thundercracker replied. “The hurt I’ve caused and the pleasure I’ve taken in it.”

“I don’t believe you’d ever be so callous,” Mirage replied resolutely.

Thundercracker felt tears try to surface, but held them back. “They used my body as a playground. I lashed out at Skywarp when Starscream and Megatron would leave us alone. Hurt him, dominated him, humiliated him. I’m as sick and twisted as they are.”

To his surprise, Mirage smiled a little. “You really did those things to Skywarp?”

Thundercracker nodded.

“Is it possible your abuse of that fragger was retribution for what he did to _me_?” Mirage asked, his amusement at the thought bleeding into his voice.

He hadn’t thought about it in such an overt fashion, but he had thought of Mirage the entire time he’d been trapped there. He also couldn’t deny he’d often looked at Skywarp with deep disgust for what he’d done to Mirage. “Perhaps, unconsciously.”

Mirage kissed him again, this time mouthing his lips and lingering until Thundercracker couldn’t resist and began to return the kiss. Soon their mouths parted and their glossa met and entwined between their linked lips. Resisting how he felt for Mirage was impossible. He adored this mech on a spark-deep level.

As the kiss broke, Thundercracker gazed deeply into the pools of blue focused on him. “Tell me you forgive me. _Please._ ”

Mirage pet the side of Thundercracker’s face and nodded. “I forgive you for anything you feel you need to be absolved of.” He smiled warmly. “And I _adore_ you.”

Thundercracker dimmed his optics. “I will do what it takes to redeem my spark to be worthy of you.”

“You are already are, my handsome flier,” Mirage replied.

“I’m a disaster,” Thundercracker replied. “Not sure ‘handsome’ applies right now.”

“You’re alive, and that’s beautiful in my optics.” Mirage carefully crawled up onto the medical berth, and curled up against Thundercracker’s side. “Now rest some more. You have a lot of healing to do,” he said pressing a hand to his cockpit.

Resting his other hand over Mirage’s Thundercracker nodded. “As you command, my lovely companion.”

…

Everyone had lined up in medbay, each waiting for their turn to have their subspace pockets and internal communicators turned back on. Prowl had gone in first. Bumblebee shifted in his hover chair as he looked at the line ahead of him and Bluestreak. Smokescreen stood with Ironhide behind him, arms wrapped around his middle. Sunstreaker was crouched down petting his insecticon. Sideswipe politely nodded at Ironfist who chattered on about building some kind of forcefield. Skyfire held Red Alert against his side, gently rubbing his smaller companion’s back in an effort to comfort him.

“Mirage seems more like himself,” Bluestreak commented.

Bumblebee glanced at the room where Thundercracker was being kept. Thudnercracker was propped up and the two were playing some kind of board game. “Glad they’re both gonna be okay.”

Bluestreak gently rubbed one of Bumblebee’s broken horns between his fingertips. “We should see if Tremorwave can do some more repairs to you now that Thundercracker and Jazz are doing okay.”

“Only if he’s got time. After all, we’re about to start a war again,” Bumblebee replied. He shrugged a shoulder. “There’s bigger issues going on.”

Bluestreak crouched down next to Bumblebee and poked him in the side. “You’re just as important as anyone else.”

It was still surreal to Bumblebee to have Bluestreak look at him with so much affection. He reached out and trailed his fingers over the red chevron, earning him dimmed, darkened optics. “I’ll ask, but if he doesn’t have time it’s no big deal.”

Bluestreak nodded.

Prowl emerged from the room and looked over the line. “Where’s Jazz?” He asked, seeing he was missing.

“You really want an answer to that?” Ironhide drawled. “Betcha he’s attached to Soundwave’s hip someplace.”

A flicker of annoyance on his face, Prowl nodded to Ironhide. He continued to slowly walk down the line, folding his hands behind his back. “The frequencies of your internal comm units are on secure channels Soundwave designed. Do not openly comm one another. I know we are isolated somewhat out here, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

Everyone nodded at Prowl.

Pausing at the now known brothers, Prowl smiled at them before continuing. “In addition, weapons and rations are being prepped by Ironfist,” he nodded his head to the smaller scientist. “You may go with him once Tremorwave is finished to fill your subspace pockets with the tools you’ll need in the coming days.” Stopping near Bumblebee and Bluestreak, Prowl gazed back at the line of them. “We are going to change this world. Let’s make it for the better. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a wayward second in command to locate.” With that, Prowl swiftly left medbay.

“He seems stressed out,” Bluestreak commented, staring after his fellow Praxian.

“Well, he is trying to take down an entire system put in place by a meglomaniac with a handful of us and a ship. That’s a tall order for anyone to fill,” Bumblebee replied.

“Despite the crazy odds, I think we’re going kick aft and change the world just like Prowl said.” Bluestreak stood back up and smiled.

Bumblebee wanted to tell Bluestreak he found his youth and optimism absolutely adorable but he still felt too self-conscious in front of the others about their budding relationship. Instead, he took hold of Bluestreak’s hand and squeezed it.

“Well, not like we’ve got much left to lose at this point other than each other,” Sunstreaker piped up. “Makes us the unpredictable mechs crazy enough to overthrow everything.”

Ironhide chuckled at that.

“Next victim!” Tremorwave said sauntering out. “I kid, I kid.” He then came to a halt looking directly at Bumblebee. “Oh, I keep forgetting about you! You know what, let’s get some much needed repairs done on you as soon as I finish with the others. Sound good?”

“Sure,” Bumblebee shyly replied.

“We definitely need our rebellion leader back in working order, doc,” Sideswipe said, grinning at Bumblebee.

“Will do,” Tremorwave replied. He then spun around on his heels. “Smokescreen, right? Come with me.” He took Smokescreen by the elbow and led him into the nearby room.

Bumblebee wished he could get smaller than he already was when he saw everyone looking at him. “Don’t forget, it was a failed rebellion,” he muttered.

“Failed or not, you’ve got strong fighting spirit in you. Inspiration for the rest of us,” Skyfire replied.

Bluestreak practically beamed as he gave Bumblebee’s hand still in his grasp a tight squeeze. Bumblebee distracted himself from the optics on him, thinking about using their new comm units to tease Bluestreak with comments about his cute aft.

Tremorwave moved through the line quickly, and before Bumblebee knew it, it was his turn. His comm unit was activated along with his subspace all while Bluestreak stayed behind and watched.

“Alright, now I think fixing your horns should be easy enough, but your legs,” Tremorwave tapped one of Bumblebee’s knees. “Tell me where the sensation stops.” He slid his hand down his leg slowly.

“There,” Bumblebee commented when his hand was about halfway between his knee and pede.

“Really?” Bluestreak replied. “That’s lower than when you woke up.”

“That’s a very good sign, actually,” Tremorwave replied. “Let’s get you in the regen tank for a day or so. I bet it’ll do you a world of good.”

Tensing a little, Bumblebee looked at Bluestreak. He quickly accessed his new comm link and found a private encrypted frequency to use. He pinged Bluestreak.

:: What’s the matter? :: Bluestreak replied.

:: I don’t want to be apart from you. :: Bumblebee winced a little, realizing how needy that sounded.  

Bluestreak then warmly smiled. :: Who said we’d be apart? I’ll stay with you at the tank just like Mirage did for Thundercracker. ::

Relaxing a little at that, Bumblebee felt his spark flutter. :: You mean the world to me, but you don’t need to do that. ::

:: I’ll stay at the tank side except to go grab energon or if Prowl has something for me to do. No argument, :: Bluestreak replied.

Bumblebee had nothing to say to that, so he nodded and smiled.

Tremorwave wandered out of the room. “If you two are done being googly-opticked at each other, then come with me,” he called out without looking back at them.

Bluestreak leaned down, and kissed Bumblebee sweetly.

“Can you do me one favor?” Bumblebee asked in a hushed voice as Bluestreak pulled away.

“Anything,” Bluestreak replied.

“Walk in front of me?” Bumblebee asked with a grin.

Raising an optic ridge, Bluestreak looked confused. “Why?”

“Wanna ogle your cute aft,” he replied, unable to repress a chuckle.

Bluestreak snorted a laugh. “I did say anything, didn’t I?” Standing at his full height, Bluestreak sauntered off, giving Bumblebee a show as he swayed his hips while walking away.

“The cutest dork ever,” Bumblebee said, following in his chair, giggling to himself.

…

Prowl rounded the corridor to his main office, intent on using the onboard computer to locate Jazz. At the open doorway he came to a halt.

Sitting at the conference table, Jazz had the table lit up with maps and messy piles of datapads around him as he frowned and typed into one right in front of him.

“Why weren’t you in medbay with the others?” Prowl asked, surprised by the sight as he approached.

“Tremor already turned my comm and pocket on before he discharged me,” Jazz replied, glancing up with one of his patented smiles.

“And what are you doing now?” Prowl asked, looking at the table as he took a seat beside his long time friend.

“Well, been looking at all the data and maps and everything. We need a plan of attack, and knowing you, you’re prolly gonna want to hit Swindle’s compound and the hospital, where our bestie, Megs, is being held,” Jazz replied.

“That is likely, yes,” Prowl said, looking at the maps Jazz had pulled up, including the refinery. “You have a different tact I take it?”

“Well, I think we need to shut down the refinery,” Jazz replied, tapping the map on the table. “Thing is, we want control of the planetwide situation, and the way to do it is through our fuel source. Plus, that’s a whole lotta minibots and outcasts that’ll be raring to fight with us.”

Prowl sat back in his seat, and looked at Jazz. “Your mind is as sharp as ever. More so than mine at the moment it would seem.”

Jazz glanced at Prowl and shook his head. “Nah, you’ve got the weight of leadership hung ‘round your neck right now. I maynot be the brilliant tactician you are, but I know how to run a mission. So lemmie take a little weight off you.”

Prowl was ready to ream Jazz, and here he was helping him. “Thank you, Jazz.” He leaned forward on the table, looking at the maps. “The reports Shockwave was able to get a hold of state Megatron is alive, but unconscious in the medical center and Starscream is alive but crippled as well.”

“Getting near that place is gonna be really hard.” Jazz pulled over the datapad with the report Prowl had been referring to. “Says here there’s armed guards outside and inside. Estimated count forty mechs.” He looked at Prowl. “How accurate do you think the report is?”

“Shockwave had to fire his scavenging crew when he rescued Soundwave. I’d say anything they’ve reported back to him at this point is at a 60% maybe 70% accuracy,” Prowl replied.

“So there might be a hundred of ‘em,” Jazz replied.

“Or ten,” Prowl said with a shrug of his doorwings.

“We need a three pronged attack, and to somehow coordinate with the incoming help.” Jazz shook his head. “This is a huge thing to undertake and there aren’t that many of us.”

“I have full confidence in our abilities.” Prowl laced his fingers together. “My original plan was to send you, Soundwave and Mirage into Swindle’s compound to take out his control board for the collars. Once your team was successful, then the rest of us would infiltrate the medical center and remove Megatron and Starscream from power permanently.” He glanced at the refinery map again. “But, adding the refinery into the plans will spread us quite thin.”

“Wanna hear my crazy idea?” Jazz asked.

Prowl couldn’t help but smile at that. “Sure.”

“Ironfist is gonna make the ship invincible with that second shield, right?” Jazz looked at Prowl, cat-like smile on his lips.

“Yes,” Prowl replied.

“You’re gonna think I’ve lost it, but I think it’ll work. And we won’t need to rely on incoming help, either,” Jazz replied. He slid the datapad he’d been typing into over to Prowl.

Reading Jazz’s proposed mission specs, Prowl softly chuckled. “Insane enough that it might actually work.” He looked back at his friend. “Let’s take back our homeworld, hm?”

Jazz firmly nodded his agreement. “Freedom for everyone, and no more factions if we do this right.”

“An ideal world once again,” Prowl replied, hoping against all odds they would be able to pull this off.

…

After a long afternoon of working out the mission details once Shockwave and Soundwave joined him and Jazz, Prowl quietly padded back to his shared quarters. The door opened to Sunstreaker on the floor with Bob over top of him, tube-like tongue whipping out to lick his face. Sideswipe was laughing his aft off on the couch as he watched. Both looked over at Prowl when he stepped inside.

“Welcome back, handsome,” Sideswipe said.

“Thank you.” Prowl’s faceplates heated slightly at the compliment and he quickly deflected the attention away from himself. “How has training your pet gone today?” Prowl asked, smiling down at Sunstreaker.

“Pretty well,” Sunstreaker replied.

“Better than that. Don’t be so modest, Sunny.” Sideswipe sat forward and held out a treat. “Hey, Bob. _Sit_.”

The insecticon scrambled off Sunstreaker and sat on his hind quarters, wriggling his aft. Sideswipe handed the treat to the tiny second set of hands under its chest, which then shoved the treat into his grated mouth.

“You named him _Bob?_ ” Prowl asked.

Sunstreaker sat up and chuckled. “Yeah. That’s what I decided to name him.”

Prowl smiled and shook his head.

Finished with the treat, Bob got up and walked over to Prowl, sniffing his legs.

“Well, he seems fairly tame.” Prowl bent down to pet Bob’s head.

“He’ll be great for fighting when we go take out Megatron for good,” Sunstreaker replied.

“Actually, you two will not be on the team that takes out Megatron,” Prowl admitted as he stood back up and Bob trotted over and sat down next to Sunstreaker on the floor.

“Why not?” Sideswipe asked. They both looked at him with matching looks of disappointment.

Primus, how had Prowl never noticed before being told that were twins? “There’s another just as vitally important mission you two will be on.” Prowl wandered over and sat down next to Sideswipe on the couch.

Petting Bob’s head, Sunstreaker had a brooding, upset look on his face.

“What mission are we gonna be on then?” Sideswipe asked.

“As Jazz pointed out, gaining control of the energon refinery will give us better control over the population of post-war Decepticons,” Prowl replied.

Sunstreaker looked at Prowl and darkly smiled. “So we’re going to the refinery?”

“Yes. You two, Smokescreen, Bluestreak, Ironhide are assigned to retaking the refinery and setting the slaves free once the collars are disabled,” Prowl replied, unsure why Sunstreaker looked almost maniacal at the news of their intended mission.

“What about Bee? You gotta have him come with us,” Sideswipe insisted. “He lead a rebellion in that place and almost died because of it. He deserves to be there.”

Prowl looked at Sideswipe and frowned a little. “He’s unable to walk. How will he fight?”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to.” Sunstreaker laid his hand heavily on Bob’s head. “He can use Bob as protection.”

“Oh yeah, Sunny was teaching him to do that earlier, attack things he said it was okay to.” Sideswipe chuckled. “We were dangling scrap metal on ropes earlier in the lounge. Also? Weirdly, Bob likes to eat scrap metal.”

Bob wriggled his aft, knowing they were talking about him.

“I’ll consider it,” Prowl replied. “I just don’t want any more damage to happening to Bumblebee.”

“He’ll be fine. We’ll all protect him, and Bob will be like extra, extra protection for him,” Sunstreaker replied.

Prowl smiled a little and nodded. “There is something else I wanted to discuss with you both.”

“What’s up?” Sideswipe asked.

“When originally making this relationship arrangement, I asked that the two of you renew and open up your bond to one another.” Prowl had selfish reasons for not pushing the issue again before now, and truth was, his wanting them to reconnect now was just as selfish.

“Yeah, but Prowl, we’ve talked about it. After everything we went through, I don’t know if sharing all that darkness with one another would be helpful, you know?” Sideswipe replied.

Sunstreaker nodded his agreement as he frowned. “Sharing our mind-frags over our sparks seems like a really bad idea.”

Sitting up a little straighter, Prowl decided honesty was the best way to try to convince them. “Bonds give the pair a direct connection to one another, yes?”

They both nodded.

“With such a connection, I believe you would both become an impossible team to beat in a battle situation. Sharing would give you an advantage, especially in light of the fact that those you will be fighting will have no idea about the secret advantage,” Prowl explained, hoping they would understand why he saw it as advantageous.

The two exchanged looks.

“It’s been eons, Prowl.” Sideswipe frowned a little. “Even if we manage to reopen the bond, and not damage each other in the process of sharing our traumas, who’s to say we’d just pick up where we left off with the bond?”

Prowl smiled a little. “You’re fraternal twins, which means you’re more deeply bonded than any pair of other mechs could ever hope to be. I have no doubt that it would come naturally to both of you, and I think unlocking your shared pain with one another will help you more than you think.”

Sunstreaker scratched the back of Bob’s head as the insecticon settled his head in his lap. “What if things go awry, though? Would you–” he glanced at Sideswipe for a moment, then looked back at Prowl. “Would you stay with us if we tried it?”

“Yeah, I’d feel better if you around,” Sideswipe added.

“I would be honored to witness something so intimate,” Prowl replied. To be asked to watch was unexpected and made him feel very much accepted by both of them. It was a huge stride for the three of them, and showed how comfortable Sunstreaker was finally becoming with them. “When would you two like do this, you think?”

The brothers looked at one another.

Sunstreaker shrugged.

“I guess we could try tomorrow?” Sideswipe asked, then looked at Prowl. “Are you gonna be busy with more planning stuff?”

“Most likely, but I will be happy to return here at a specified time,” Prowl replied.

“Or we could just do it now,” Sunstreaker said.

“ _Right_ now?” Sideswipe asked.

“What’s putting it off one day going to do?” Sunstreaker frowned. “Maybe we should just get on with it.”

Sideswipe was obviously surprised, but after a moment he nodded. “Alright, now. Let’s just get it over with.”

Unable to help it, Prowl frowned a little at their attitude toward the whole thing, seeing it as a chore to be done. For their own health and safety in the field, though, Prowl wasn’t going to quibble over the details as long as it resulted in what he saw as the best circumstances for them to be going into battle in.

The three went into the berthroom with Bob trotting along behind. Sunstreaker led Bob to a makeshift bed of blankets he’d put in the corner of the room. He gave him another treat and commanded him to stay on his blanket. Bob plopped down and made himself comfortable.

Prowl settled on the end of the berth, allowing the brothers plenty of space in the middle to arrange themselves however they best saw fit.

They looked unsure of themselves as they got onto the berth. To Prowl’s surprise, Sunstreaker took control. He honestly hadn’t pegged Sunstreaker as the dominate of the two before they were all together, but he’d witnessed Sideswipe defer to him several times now.

“Sit crossed legged, but wrap our legs around each other,” Sunstreaker said, sitting in the intended position.

Sideswipe mirrored his brother, and with their legs wrapped around each other their chests could be pressed flush. Sitting up also meant if one or the other needed to pull away it would be much easier access than one lying over the other.

They both sighed with their clear apprehension.

“Prowl, if we look like we’re in distress you’ll pull us apart, right?” Sunstreaker asked, glancing at him.

Prowl nodded assuredly. “I will.”

“Let’s just do it,” Sideswipe said, grimacing.

They each opened their chests, and the light that shimmered between was breathtaking. Prowl stared with bright optics as he watched their sparks reach out for one another without the hesitation they’d shown only moments before.

Sideswipe was terrified, yet the moment their sparks touched all that fear melted away. They’d merged with as much ease as they ever had, two sparks pulsing together in a moment of oneness that was impossible to describe. He felt all of his brother; the pain, the love, the fear, the self-loathing, the hope… All of him.

This was a moment Sunstreaker had dreamed of happening again ever since Sideswipe left him all those eons ago. He reveled in the wholeness this merge offered, sinking into the warmth and light that was his brother. There was pain that hadn’t been there before, but his brother wasn’t afraid. At least not in the same way Sunstreaker was. Despite what he’d been through, coming so close to death, he was still as optimistic as ever.

They clung to one another, forehelms pressed together as they shared their time apart without need for words. Nothing was quite like a connection through sparks. They spoke volumes without a need for single word to be uttered. They’d both suffered and missed their other halves in a deep aching way that this merge now soothed and healed. Prowl had been right. They needed one another like this. They belonged to one another.

_Prowl…_

With that thought a flurry of attached emotions volleyed over their sparks, and in a fraction of a moment they agreed they needed him as much as they needed one another. The only words they shared were spoken out loud as they turned their dazed optics toward him.

“Prowl is important, we need him with us,” the spoke in unison.

Shocked, Prowl’s mouth gaped slightly, his doorwings quivering slightly at their merged message. Suddenly they both sharply gasped and moaned, overload from their spark merge clearly taking hold. As it passed, their sparks quickly retreated and they fell sideways, bodies tangled.

Prowl quickly hopped to his feet and rounded to the head of the berth, gently touching each of their helms. They’d offlined from the overload, but they weren’t overheated. Still stunned by their words, he carefully sat down on the edge of the berth staring at them. He’d spent most of the war feeling more and more detached and unwanted by anyone he was around, his position forcing him to make decisions that were often times unpopular. To have these two state they needed him touched at something deep inside his own spark. “I need you both, too,” he softly murmured, knowing that his time with Sideswipe had helped soften his hard edges, and being forced to reach out to Sunstreaker had stretched his ability to empathize. They'd changed him, and now he wanted to help give them a world to live in again.

...

"So what 'cha up to?" Jazz asked, lifting one of Soundwave's arms up so he could settle on his lap. He stared at the computer screen of the console, trying to figure out what his love was currently encrypting.

Unflappable as always, Soundwave paused long enough for Jazz to get comfortable then resumed his work. "Message for incoming army as scripted by Prowl must be encrypted."

"But how will they be able to break it?" Jazz frowned at the screen.

"Blaster is their communications officer. He will recognize the encryption," Soundwave replied. "He wrote it."

Jazz chuckled at that, leaning against Soundwave. "You're almost as clever as me."

"We are equally intelligent in differing areas of expertise," Soundwave replied.

Turning his head to look up at Soundwave he grinned. "That was a joke, but thanks for the compliment."

Soundwave let his mask retract, revealing a small smile. "I simply stated the truth."

Glancing back at the screen, Jazz smirked. "Blaster, huh?" He reached forward for the keys on the console and Soundwave paused what he was doing. It sort of amazed him how easily they acted in tandem. It was that or Soundwave had a secret mind-reading ability. He quickly scrolled through a side window, accessing his music files. "Here. Can you attach this to the message? So it'll play when opened?"

Fingers resumed their task as Soundwave nodded once and pulled the music track over to his encryption code and continued. After a couple more minutes, Soundwave was done. "Musical track attached."

"You're the best," Jazz replied. He then squirmed around in Soundwave's lap until he was facing him with his legs straddling the larger span of hips. "You deserve a reward."

Tipping his head up, Jazz pressed a kiss to exposed lips. Soundwave's hands pet over his plating as he returned the kiss which soon deepened.

"Ahem."

The kiss broke, and Jazz sheepishly smiled at their visitor on the command deck, Shockwave. "What's up?"

"I'd rather not comment on that. This is hardly an appropriate location for your romantic pursuits," Shockwave replied.

"Apologies," Soundwave replied, though he made no move to remove Jazz from his lap.

"I was actually looking for Prowl. I thought he'd be here," Shockwave replied.

"Nope. You try his new comm?" Jazz asked.

"He has a busy tone set at the moment," Shockwave replied.

"In all likelihood he is occupied with the twin warriors," Soundwave replied.

Shockwave seemed to deflate slightly at that. "I see."

“Was there somethin’ we could do for you?” Jazz asked, unsure what to think about the fact that Shockwave was still so obviously pining after Prowl.

“No, it can wait.” Shockwave then bowed his head. “I’ll stop by tomorrow in the morning. If you could just let him know I was looking for him?”

“Sure thing,” Jazz replied.

Shockwave quickly disappeared, and Jazz frowned.

“Why are you upset?” Soundwave asked, brushing his thumb over Jazz’s pouted lip.

“Just wonderin’ when that mech will finally stop chasing after something he’s not gonna get,” Jazz replied with a shrug.

Soundwave kissed Jazz’s cheek, then lingered to nuzzle him. “Shockwave prizes logic above all. Prowl is a very fitting match in theory.”

“In reality Prowl needs those two idiots to help ground him, though,” Jazz quietly replied. “Maybe Shockwave needs someone more emotional to pursue, too.”

Soundwave pulled back and smiled as he nodded. “Your capacity for emotion exceeds mine, and together we find balance.”

Jazz flashed a grin. “Opposites attract and all that, yeah.” He sweetly kissed Soundwave, reveling in the intoxicating way this mech always made him feel. Beyond addicted, he needed this mech like he needed energon pumping in his lines. He could hardly wait until they’d overthrown Megaton for good. For the first time ever, he was seeing life in longer terms than what he’d be doing the next day. He saw a life, a _home_ with this mech and his annoying cassettes, and that thought made him deliriously happy.

…

Shockwave stepped off the ship and started to cross the hangar to the stairwell to return the main part of the compound. Things were coming together well. The plans they were setting into motion were solid, and he had no doubt they were going to take back their homeworld.

A part of him still ached, though. He’d hoped that in time Prowl would see him as an equal worthy of more than their colleague-style relationship. Perhaps if he’d not touched Prowl the way he had in the meeting with Megatron things could’ve progressed that way. It was an action he knew in his spark he needed to take in order to protect Prowl, but one that cost him dearly on a personal level.

“Sir! Wait a second!”

Shockwave came a stop, glancing at Ironfist running his direction with something in his hands.

“Hey, sorry. I just, I was unpacking my lab on the ship and I found this. I fixed it and forgot to give it to you.” Ironfist held out a small ornate box.

Gently taking it with his one hand, Shockwave canted his head slightly. “Hello, Ironfist.”

Ironfist’s optics curved, indicating his hidden smile benath his blast mask. “Hello, sir.” He then focused on the box in his hand. “I hope you like it. I know you’ve got a collection of them.”

“Is this a hologram box?” Shockwave replied, his delight at the prospect bleeding into his voice.

“Yeah. A really nice one, too. I’ll show you.” Ironfist carefully pulled back the lid of the small, decorated box, revealing a running turbofox hologram.

“Beautiful,” Shockwave replied, enthralled with the small trinket from their golden age. He looked at Ironfist, wishing he could show the smile he felt inside. "Thank you."

"Sure thing," Ironfist replied.

Gently squeezing the box so the lid shut, Shockwave dimmed his optic as he looked at the etched box cover.

“You okay?” Ironfist asked. “I mean, it’s just, you seem… I dunno…”

Looking back at the small scientist, Shockwave nodded. “I am looking forward to ending this all once and for all. I suppose lately I have been reflecting on how I found myself on this path, though.”

Ironfist looked like he wanted to say something, but snapped his mouth shut and rubbed his hands on his hips nervously. After a moment he finally spoke, though. “Well, things will work out. I have faith in you and Prowl.”

“You have been as much of an asset as any of us, Ironfist.” Shockwave then bowed his head slightly. “I need to go up and see if there’s any further news from the city. I will speak with you and the others later, I’m sure. And thank you again.”

“Yeah, okay. See you,” Ironfist replied.

Shockwave quickly left the hangar, and as he started up the stairs, he held the small trinket to his chest. “This path may set some things right, but cannot put it all back to how it was,” he sullenly murmured to himself.

…

Ironfist wandered into medbay and leaned into the doorway of the CMO’s office. “Got a sec?”

Tremorwave glanced up from his computer console and shrugged. “Sure. What’s up?”

Stepping inside, Ironfist caught a glimpse of what looked like First Aid’s medical file. From what he saw, it looked like Tremorwave was running scenarios for returning his second’s ability to walk, including external devices. Not wanting to seem nosy, Ironfist quickly looked back at Tremorwave. “So, I was curious what you knew about empurata?”

With a disgusted look, Tremorwave scowled. “You mean other than it’s a barbaric, horrible miscarriage of medical science used for political means?”

Ironfist sheepishly shrank in on himself. “Well, yeah. I, uh, I was just curious if it was possible to reverse it?”

Tremorwave leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “You know, I never thought about it before. I suppose it _is_ possible. It would be as intense a process in reverse, though. Quite painful, and the recovery would take time...”

“Would you want to try it on a willing subject?” Ironfist asked.

Lighting up at that, Tremorwave suddenly grinned. “Don’t tell me your owner said he wants his head back, has he?”

Biting his lip behind his mask in response, Ironfist shook his head. “He’s _not_ my owner. Is that what you still really think of us? That we’re a bunch of slaves?”

Tremorwave’s smile instantly faded. “No! I-ah, it’s just force of habit,” he said shaking his head. He then leaned forward against his desk. “I didn’t mean it how it sounded. If I really thought that about you all, would I be here?”

“I don’t know. I don’t much about you, honestly. Other than you _were_ a Decepticon, and that the repairs I’ve seen you perform show you’re an expert medic. Which is why I was asking about reversing empurata in the first place,” Ironfist replied.

“All you really need to know about me is that I do what I have to survive. The symbol I wore in the war, my choice to be here, it’s all about being on the winning side. That’s the Primus’ honest truth,” Tremorwave replied. “As far as reverse empurata, yeah, I can probably do it. I just need a willing participant and their original schematics for their removed parts. Not something we have time or resources for at the moment, though.”

Ironfist nodded. “Good to know. And thanks for being honest.”

Tremorwave sharply nodded.

…

In two more days, they would be implementing Prowl’s orders and taking back their planet. Red Alert laid curled up against Skyfire in their quarters in the dark unable to recharge as he thought about the implications of what they were about to try to do. The lack of thrum from Skyfire meant he was still awake, too.

Ever since the medication they’d been drugged with worked it’s way out of their systems they’d been physically affectionate, but not interfaced. Red Alert dimmed his optics, remembering how it felt to be touched like that by Inferno, then compared to his more recent interactions with Skyfire. They both were so gentle with him. Loving in the way they touched and treated him, and not just in the berth, either. Red Alert had hoped that maybe the pain from losing Inferno would fade, but in truth it felt sharper than ever, especially in Skyfire’s presence. He reminded him so much of Inferno it made his spark feel like it was going to tear itself apart from grief sometimes.

“Skyfire?” Red Alert asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes?” Skyfire replied.

Fingering the white plating near him, Red Alert dimmed his optics. “Are you worried about what will happen?”

“I trust in Prowl’s plans,” Skyfire replied.

“No, I mean. What if we do it? What if we really overthrow Megatron once and for all? Then what will happen?” Red Alert shifted, looking up at the dimly lit blue optics gazing at him in the darkness.

“I suppose we will rebuild. Set up a hopefully more functional government. That kind of thing,” Skyfire carefully replied.

“And you and me?” Red Alert asked in a smaller voice.

“I would be happy to remain at your side, but ultimately I leave that up to you.” Skyfire gently squeezed Red Alert against him.

“Do you... _love_ me?” Red Alert was genuinely curious.

“I–” Skyfire looked away. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Why not?” Pushing up onto his elbows, Red Alert looked at Skyfire’s barely lit face in the darkness of the room, searching for the truth of this mech’s feelings. “You either love me or don’t.”

After a moment of hesitation, Skyfire softly sighed air from his intakes. “Yes.”

Somewhat surprised, Red Alert canted his head. “You love me despite the fact I can’t love you back?”

Skyfire look almost stricken at the question. “I…” He grimaced. “Yes.”

“You and Ironfist would be so much better suited for each other. Definitely less painful than being trapped with me.” Red Alert sank back down, resting chin on Skyfire’s chest.

With the backs of his large fingers, Skyfire touched Red Alert’s cheek. “It hurts that I cannot be what you desire most. I want so much to fill that void inside you, but it’s not  my place. I am not, and I will never be what you lost. That said, the pain I may endure is nothing compared to what you must feel and at least this way you aren’t all alone.”

Red Alert felt tears suddenly surface on his optics. “I _want_ to love you,” he whispered. “I want it _so_ much.” And that was the truth he’d been avoiding speaking, even inside his own mind. There was a part of him that wished he’d never bonded to Inferno so he could have Skyfire instead. “I’m not fit for anyone to have. I wasn’t even good enough for _Inferno_ …” Tears spilled with his guilty confession, and he shivered as he started to cry.

Skyfire turned on the berth, wrapping Red Alert up in his large arms and holding him close as he started to sob yet again. It felt like he’d never stop crying for his loss. That the only escape for this pain would be death. Despite his promise to Inferno, he was finding harder and harder to exist like this.

“I have thought about all this a lot, Red,” Skyfire said, voice as even and calm as it had ever been. “I asked the medic about it, too–”

Red Alert tried to reign in his crying. “Asked… what?”

"I was curious if a new bond might help you," Skyfire quietly replied.

Optics brightened at that, and Red Alert flattened his hands against Skyfire's cockpit chest he was curled up against. "You love me that much?"

Skyfire kissed one of his helm horns. "Of course."

"What did Tremorwave say?" Red Alert asked, tearing up again but for a different reason, overwhelmed by how much this mech cared for him.

"He said it would help stabilize your emotions with a second spark there to help carry the burden of loss," Skyfire explained.

Red Alert pressed his face into the crook of Skyfire's neck. "I could never do that to you," he said in a hushed voice.

"But I would happily do it, if you wanted." Skyfire nuzzled a helm horn. "And whether you choose that path with me or not, I'll stay at your side as long as you'll have me."

More tears escaped. Red Alert never imagined he'd find one mech that would love him enough for a bond, let alone two. "I-I can't answer you now."

"You don't need to," Skyfire replied. "Just something to consider if you wanted a future life with me in it."

"I'll think about it," Red Alert said, hating how fragile he was but at the same time amazed by the selflessness of this mech holding him. He quietly cried until he was too tired to remain online. Snuggling against Skyfire his sobs faded and he relaxed. He was safe in every way in this mech's arms and eternally grateful for Starscream's choice to bring them together. "I _do_ love you," he whispered just before he slipped offline.


	22. Fight! (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first mission doesn't end how they expect...

Roused by the sensation of a hand pushing up his chest, Perceptor lit his mismatched optics just as Drift began to grind his hips against his aft in their spooned position. “And good morning to you, too.”

“Primus, that voice when it first comes on…” Drift pressed his face into the back of Perceptor’s neck, and he could feel his lover's mouth curve into a smile as he continued to rock his hips.

“You’ve been quite amorous since we started on our voyage home,” Perceptor replied. “Not that I mind.” He pressed his black hand over Drift’s black and white one over to his chest.

“Making up for lost time with all those weeks of prepping and everything,” Drift replied. The distinct sound of his interface cover snapping open echoed in the room. “Plus, being with you–” He began to rub his spike on Perceptor’s aft. “Is like an affirmation of life for me.”

Turmoil’s destruction and Wing’s influence had altered Drift dramatically. Bit by bit, day by day, the anger Deadlock, now Drift, carried around had faded away, having been replaced by renewed hope. Perceptor found the transformation fascinating, and he’d subsequently fallen even more in love with Drift.

“I want to hear that lovely voice,” Drift said, moving his hand from Perceptor’s chest down to cup his interface cover.

Perceptor smiled a little. “What would you like to hear? Should I tell you how delightful your beautiful, decorated spike feels inside me? Or talk about how the quantum engines on this borrowed ship are far superior to anything we have had on Cybertron and I wish to study the divergence in technology the Circle of Light has created in greater detail once we free our homeworld?”

Drift playfully mouthed the back of Perceptor’s neck. “Frag, any of that. Don’t care… Just wanna hear your voice...”

Opening his interface panel, Pereceptor’s spike surged forward into Drift’s eager hand and he moaned at the touch.

“Only thing sexier than you talking is that moan,” Drift said as he slid his knee between Perceptor’s legs to part them. Shifting behind Perceptor, Drift got himself into position, poking his spike’s head just past the rim of his valve.

Perceptor grasped at the berth’s padding and moaned louder. “Please,” he breathed. “I want to feel you filling me.”

“As you–” Drift rolled his hips forward. “– _wish_ ,” he said, punctuating his last word by impaling Perceptor.

Moaning in reply, Perceptor was happily at Drift’s mercy. They interfaced in all sorts of positions, but their morning ritual had become this particular positioning. There was something about it harkening back to their very first time together, coupled with the fact that Drift prefered to recharge spooned against his back.  

They writhed together on the berth, Drift thrusting over and over into Perceptor’s quivering valve, causing him to moan wantonly, which always revved Drift up more, and within minutes they reached the crescendo.

“Ah!” Perceptor gasped and groaned as pleasure went crashing through his array. His whole frame shuddered from the thick wave of pleasure that pushed through him.

Drift grunted and then made the smallest sound of whining pleasure as he sheathed himself to empty into Perceptor with his own overload and release. Perceptor relished not only the liquid heat filling him and the incredible pleasure he felt, but that small sound Drift made meant the world to him. After being together for all this time, Drift had only let himself make noise when he was being spiked. It was a force of habit from his time in the gutters not to make noise or draw attention especially when spiking another mech. A habit he was slowly breaking with Perceptor.

They sank into a listless pile, and Drift kissed and nuzzled Perceptor’s neck. He dimmed his optics, and smiled at the affection.

The intercom suddenly buzzed. “Hey, where is everyone? We’ve got a message from that medic friend of Drift’s. Everyone get your afts to the bridge.”

“So much for post-overload snuggling,” Drift said, shifting his hips to slip free of Perceptor. “Rodimus has the worst timing.”

Drift pulled away, and Perceptor rolled to his back and gazed up at his love. “Rodimus. I’m still trying to process that name as his.”

“He likes it better,” Drift replied, pulling a cloth out of a drawer in the berthside cabinet. He first carefully wiped up the mess he’d made of Perceptor, then flipped the cloth over to tend to his own array.

Perceptor felt spoiled in the most wonderful way when Drift tended to him. He snapped his cover shut and sat up. “It’s still going to take time for me to get used to.”

Drift half-smiled, then kissed Perceptor sweetly. “Didn’t take you too long to get used to using ‘Drift’ as my name.”

Somewhat dazed from the kiss, Perceptor smiled a little. “Drift is a beautiful name that fits you much better than Deadlock. Rodimus sounds like one of those mechs from a lewd interfacing movie.”

Drift snorted and laughed. “Don’t you dare say that to his face!”

“Most certainly not,” Perceptor replied. “Well, we should go see what’s got him excited and how Tremorwave is fairing.”

Drift brightly smiled and nodded. “Hope he’s okay. We’ve been gone a lot longer than I expected.”

They both slid off the berth and left their quarters for the main bridge. Perceptor was also worried for his fellow Autobots back on Cybertron as well as Tremorwave. Things had been so oppressive and dark once Megatron took control. After all these months, he imagined many he knew who were being abused were possibly irrevocably damaged in both mind and body.

On the bridge a handful had gathered. Blaster was tapping his fingers on the console, looking bored. Rodimus was pacing around and Ratchet and Wheeljack were sitting in side-by-side chairs, both with their arms folded over their chests.

“So, what’s going on?” Drift asked as they joined them.

“This message is huge. It’s taking forever to download,” Blaster replied with a scowl.

“Why is it so large?” Perceptor asked.

“No clue,” Blaster replied. The download symbol finally went from greyed out to full color. “ _Finally_.” He then went to open the file only to be stopped yet again by an encryption requiring a key. “What the slag?”

“What? What’s wrong now?” Rodimus asked.

“It’s encrypted,” Perceptor looked at Drift. “Does Tremorwave know how to encrypt?”

“I doubt it,” Drift replied. “You think my message was intercepted?”

“No, I think Soundwave encrypted it,” Blaster said, fingers flying over the console keypad. “What a clever–” The encryption was broken. “He locked it using my old encryption key.” He pressed play for the message and suddenly a song blared over the speakers.

“Music?” Rodimus looked confused.

“Is that the theme song from your radio show, Blaster?” Wheeljack asked.

“It is.” Blaster chuckled. “Well, I would say that means Jazz is alive and kicking. Only he’d send me that music file.”

The theme song ended and a video file started to play with Tremorwave on screen.

“Hey Deadlock! So I got your message. And, uh, I kinda had visitors at the compound when I played it.” Tremorwave looked off screen for a moment as he raised an optic ridge. “A lot has happened. So lemmie sum up before I hand this over to the head honcho. Basically, Megatron and Starscream were blown up and they’re currently at the medical center under heavy guard. Shockwave was hiding a really nice starship that I’m now CMO of under his compound. We’ve got fifteen? Sixteen? Something like that on board ready to fight. And the new leader here–” he jerked his head toward whoever was off screen. “has got a big ol’ plan to set things right again. In fact, I’ll let him tell you.”

Tremorwave got out of the chair and Prowl sat down.

“ _Prowl?_ ” Ratchet said, clearly not happy.

“First, let me say I appreciate any and all help you will be arriving with. But circumstances cannot wait much longer. Events that recently unfolded exposed our former Decepticon allies and it’s only a matter of time before retaliation will be exacted on us. Therefore I have a three pronged plan that will be set into motion on the attached date of the file that should be bundled with his message. Join us when you arrive, and may we all make Cybertron our home once again.”

The video ended and a set of plans popped up on screen.

“Prowl is the leader? This isn’t good,” Ratchet replied. “His schemes tend to not end well…”

“These plans look pretty solid to me?” Rodimus replied, reading them over.

“I doubt they would have chosen Prowl as their commander if they didn’t feel he was the right mech for the position,” Perceptor said, looking at Ratchet.

“I guess.” Ratchet scowled.

“From the looks of it, they’re moving on this in just a couple more days,” Blaster said.

“Will we get there in time to help?” Rodimus asked.

“Yeah, we should. I think they’re timing it to what you sent in that first message, Drift.” Blaster glanced over his shoulder at him.

Drift smiled. “Then let’s Dai Atlas know, and go take back our home like Prowl said. Right?”

Rodimus grinned at that. “Frag yeah.”

…

Jazz doubled checked his pistol, and then stowed it in his subspace pocket. “Forgot how much I missed having my sub-pocket.”

“Me, too,” Mirage replied, tucking energon rations in his.

“Oh! I got something for you,” Jazz said. He took hold of Mirage’s hand, and reached back into his pocket, pulling out the invisibility cloak device. Placing it in his friend’s palm, he smiled. “You should be using this.”

“Jazz…” Mirage folded his fingers around it and squeezed, initiating the cloak. His form shimmered out of view, leaving Jazz grinning. “Thank you so much!” Mirage’s invisible form hugged Jazz tightly.

Laughing, Jazz shook his head. “Suits you best anyway.”

Rematerializing, Mirage carefully attached it to his hand with the proper magnetizers.

Soundwave walked into the prepping area and came to a stop. “Prowl is ready to leave. First we must perform our part of the mission. Are you both properly armed and ready?”

“Sure are,” Jazz replied. “Let’s get going.”

Mirage nodded. “We’re taking Shockwave’s shuttle?”

“Yes. It has thicker outer hull plating than Tremorwave’s. Even still, we are going to have to be diligent in our actions to avoid failure,” Soundwave replied.

“Three of us against Swindle and his compound goons,” Mirage frowned. “Are we really going to be able to pull this off? I know I, for one, might be a little rusty at this.”

Jazz flashed a grin. “Try seven of us.”

Mirage canted his head. “Seven…?”

“Rumble, Frenzy, Ravage and Laserbeak are stowed and ready for my command,” Soundwave replied.

With bright optics, Mirage glanced at Soundwave’s chest. “Well, then. I feel a little better about our chances.”

...

In the cargo hold everyone assigned to the second mission milled around. The intercom buzzed on and Prowl spoke. “We will not be starting the engines until we have word that Swindle’s compound is secured. Please be on stand by. The alpha team is leaving the compound now.”

Bumblebee was excited he hadn’t been sidelined for the mission to take control of the refinery. His time in the regen tank had restored much of his lower sensory net, allowing him to walk again. All he needed now was a cane to help him maintain balance.

“You try commanding him, okay?” Sunstreaker said, handing off the leash to his pet insecticon.

Bumblebee looked down at the four optics staring up at him. “What do I say?”

“Try the S-I-T command,” Sunstreaker suggested.

“Um, Bob, _sit_ ,” Bumblebee said.

Bob plopped his rear end down, wriggling a little where he sat as he waited for his reward.

“Gotta toss him a treat,” Sideswipe said, gently elbowing Bumblebee.

“Oh, right!” Bumblebee pulled a box of treats from subspace and threw one, which Bob’s helping hands caught and shoved into his mouth. “So, will I need to throw a treat everytime I give a command?”

“Yeah… But don’t worry. We’ll be there, too. We won’t let anything happen to you,” Sunstreaker replied.

“Better not,” Bluestreak said as he wandered over after he’d checked his weapon and stowed it.

Bumblebee smiled at him. “Just glad I’m not getting left behind.”

“You kidding? You’re our rebellion leader. We need you there!” Sideswipe replied, slapping Bumblebee on the back.

“Can’t wait to see that fragger and take him down,” Smokescreen said with a dark look. “Right, Sunny?”

Sunstreaker’s expression also grew very dark and he sharply nodded. “Payback sucks slag.”

Ironhide huffed. “You two better not get carried away. We’re there to put Vortex and Brawl out of commission and get control of the facility. Not exact revenge.”

Bumblebee couldn’t help but feel sympathetic toward Smokescreen and Sunstreaker, though. Things he’d not mentioned to anyone, not even Bluestreak, made him want revenge, too. Beaten almost to death and left there as an example to the others, lingering in and out of consciousness for days had left unseen scars he’d carefully hidden away from everyone around him.

His comm link buzzed, drawing him from his thoughts. It was Bluestreak, despite the fact he was standing only a couple feet away.

:: You alright? :: Bluestreak asked.

:: Yeah. Ready to fight. You? :: Bumblebee asked, shoving his darker emotions aside.

“We’re gonna kick aft, either way. And set everyone there free. That’s the most important part,” Sideswipe piped up, trying to drain some of the tension from the room.

:: I’m ready. Been a long time since I fought. Hope I’m not too out of practice, :: Bluestreak replied, moving to stand right next to Bumblebee.

:: Honestly, with Ironhide, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe I think we’re gonna be fine. They’re all really strong, :: Bumblebee replied.

Bluestreak gently fondled one of Bumblebee’s repaired helm horns. “I’m really glad you’re coming along with us.”

Bumblebee looked up at him, his spark flip-flopping in his chest as he stared into his love’s pretty optics. “Me, too.”

…

Setting the shuttle down in a deserted area not too far from Swindle’s compound, the three disembarked.

Jazz looked at the compound not too far away, then clapped his hands together. “Let’s break in!”

Soundwave’s chestplate opened and Laserbeak ejected. “Laserbeak, disable rear cameras.”

Laserbeak squawked then flew off toward the compound.

“Mirage, you’re our invisible lead,” Jazz said, gesturing.

“Yes, sir.” Mirage initiated the cloak and disappeared from view.

They walked across the destroyed landscape, each focused on the mission. Jazz knew from the intell Shockwave provided that Swindle had reduced his guards after selling off most of his slaves. He now just raked in extra credits selling drugs to slave owners. This was hopefully true, and would give them an advantage.

Arriving at the back wall, no guards appeared.

“Laserbeak did it?” Jazz asked.

Soundwave nodded. “He is perched atop the guard tower.”

“There’s a backdoor, right?” Mirage’s disembodied voice asked.

“This way,” Soundwave replied.

They followed him until they reached a recessed entry way. “‘Raj, go ‘round and see if there’s a camera, and you know what to do if there is.”

“On it,” Mirage replied.

Soundwave placed a hand on Jazz’s shoulder. “We must move carefully.”

Jazz smiled up at him. “I got no plans on dying. Don’t you worry.”

The sound of metal being crunched under foot, signaled them to move in. At the door, Mirage had made short work of the camera, stomping it to pieces.

Jazz scowled. “Keypad entry with _twenty_ buttons?”

Soundwave stepped forward, and removed the face off the panel with his fingertips. He then reached inside and took the needed wiring out, tying the proper ends together. The door then slid open.

“Wow. You may not have much in the way of subtly, but that was quite effective,” Mirage complimented as his footfall echoed into the building.

Jazz chuckled, and he and Soundwave stepped inside after him.

“Laserbeak is now hooked into the security system. He has disabled all alarms, and cameras are on feedback loops. We can move freely,” Soundwave informed him.

“Now that’s just cheatin’!” Jazz teased.

“Which way, though?” Mirage asked.

The corridor looked exactly the same each way, long and badly lit.

“Well, coming in the from the back, I think the cells are prolly above us. We need to get to the control tower in the middle, so prolly either way will work,” Jazz replied.

“Your reasoning is sound,” Soundwave replied.

After wandering for several minutes, Jazz was getting antsy. They hadn’t crossed a single guard, and the corridor looked the same as it had.

“Freeze!”

They all turned to see a guard armed with a stun gun.

“Oh, thank Primus. I was startin’ to worry we wouldn’t run into _any_ guards,” Jazz replied. “‘Round the side, ‘Raj.”

The guard scrunched up his nose at Jazz. “Are you mental?”

“No, he was giving an order,” Mirage’s disembodied voice said before he kicked the guard in the side so hard he went careening into the wall.

Staggering back to his feet, the guard looked around wildly. “What the frag?”

Moving with speed, Jazz grabbed the guard from behind and held him in a headlock. Mirage disarmed him, sending the stun gun skittering across the floor.

“Alright, Mr. Guard-guy, which way to the main tower?” Jazz asked.

“Don’t kill me!” the guard shrieked.

“I don’t plan on killin’ you. Just point us in the right direction.” Jazz squeezed his neck hard to give him a little extra incentive.

Gagging, the guard clawed at his arm. “At the end of this corridor is a green door. That leads to the stairwell to the tower!”

“And the panel that controls all the collars is located there?” Soundwave asked.

The guard looked at him, and scowled. “You’re the one that betrayed Megatron.”

“Answer the question!” Jazz replied, wrenching on the guard’s neck.

With a strangled cry of pain, the guard nodded. “Alright, alright. No, the panel for the collars is this level in the main control room for the cells.”

“Show us,” Mirage replied.

Looking around for who spoke, he fervently nodded. “Right, okay. Just don’t kill me!”

Soundwave stepped up and pulled a set of stasis cuffs from subspace. He clasped them around the guard’s wrist. “Lead the way.”

Jazz let go once Soundwave had firm hold of the guard’s arm.

“Th-this way,” the guard said as he started down the corridor. “You guys have no idea what it’s been like since Swindle did his last auction… It’s been horrible.”

“Horrible?” Jazz asked.

“Swindle, he’s hooked on his own drug supply…” the guard winced. “He’s killed several of us for sport.”

“His _own_ guards?” Jazz asked.

“Yeah,” the guard replied.

Jazz was shocked. “Why the frag did you stay, then?”

“There’s hardly any jobs. If I don’t work here I’ll be out on the streets, which is way worse.” The guard looked miserable as he admitted to what had been going on.  
“Swindle kept a couple Autobots for himself, and he’s holed up in the control room with them, getting high and well...” the guard came to a stop beside a dark purple door. “You’ll see.”

Soundwave pulled the guard to the keypad entry panel. “Open the door.”

The guard did as he was told, entering the passcode.

The door slid open and to their collective horror they took in the scene before them. Swindle was lying on a makeshift berth made up of dirty padding on the floor in front of the control panel. Over top of him, their comrade Hound was riding his spike. Swindle had a lead attached to his collar, holding it tight so there was no slack and jerking on it to force Hound to continue on despite the sudden audience. In the back corner of the room Skids was chained to wall by his wrists and middle, optics whited out from being extremely drugged.

“For the love of Primus!” Jazz was outraged.

“Hound?” Mirage suddenly shimmered into view, visibly shaking. “I’m going to purge…”

“Swindle. Desist.” Soundwave walked right into the room, still holding the guard by the arm. With his free hand, he snatched the lead from Swindle’s grasp.

Mirage quickly turned and wretched his morning ration of fuel all over the floor, and Jazz gently touched his back. “‘Raj…”

“Just go get him off that sick fragger,” Mirage grumbled as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jazz did just that, walking over and taking the lead from Soundwave. “Come ‘on, Hound.” Dazed, and clearly not sure what was going on, Hound dismounted and shakily got to his feet. Jazz cupped his face, looking into his pale optics. “We got you. You’re safe, ‘kay?”

“Soundwave?” Swindle sat up. “What the frag are you doing here? Megatron decreed your death upon sight! I should shoot you dead!” He then began to maniacally laugh.

“How is that a humorous sentiment?” Soundwave asked, letting go of the guard’s arm.

Clearly not interested in staying, the guard bolted out of the room. Ignoring the runaway guard, Soundwave wrapped his large hand around Swindle’s arm, hauling him to his feet.

“It’s hilarious!” Swindle cackled more. “Because–” he wheezed. “-because you’re Soundwave! I don’t have a death wish myself. I kill you and I get a set of cassettes peeling my plating off piece by piece!” His laughter got even louder, and he wrapped an arm around his middle, laughing so hard he was nearly doubling over.

Mirage suddenly lunged at Swindle, energon knife appearing from his subspace. With his whole frame, he slammed Swindle into the control panel, ripping him from Soundwave’s grasp. “What is _wrong_ with you!?” He brandished the knife, scraping the edge against Swindle’s main fuel line along his neck. “You sick piece of scrap. You don’t deserve to live!”

“Mirage!” Jazz barked his full name, hoping that would help rein him in. “We've gotta mission and the clock is runnin’. Secure Swindle with cuffs and stand down. Soundwave needs access to the control panel.”

Mirage pulled back and slumped his shoulders. “If it wasn’t for this aft, I wouldn’t have been violated over and over and over by that seeker. He deserves no mercy, Jazz.”

“And if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have ended up in Thundercracker’s place. You can’t play the 'what if' game with what’s happened. All we can do is move forward and do our best not to repeat mistakes. Killing Swindle is a mistake. He should spend his life in a cell just like the ones he kept us in,” Jazz replied.

Relenting with an exasperated huff, Mirage stashed the energon blade and pulled out a pair of stasis cuffs, snapping them over Swindle’s wrists. “You sound like Prowl,” he grumbled.

Jazz took that as a compliment, even if Mirage hadn’t meant it as one.

Obviously still high, Swindle continued to laugh as Mirage hauled him off the control panel and threw him to the floor.

Jazz sighed, glad that he’d been able to reason with Mirage. He wondered how many of the others might end up having similar reactions when facing down their oppressors, though.

Soundwave sat down at the control panel, and began to work on hacking into the system to disable the collar remote control signals.

“You want to hold Hound, or help remove the chains on Skids?” Jazz asked, looking at Mirage.

Mirage looked at Hound. Jazz knew they were good friends from before their enslavement. “I’ll handle Hound.”

Jazz gently handed Hound off to Mirage and moved to the corner of the room to work on removing the shackles and bindings around Skids. He found the locks weren’t too complicated, and undid the pins easily, removing the bindings piece by piece.

Meanwhile Mirage removed the lead on Hound's collar, and he cupped his face. “Hello, old friend.”

Too out of it from whatever was pumping through his lines, Hound’s brow creased, but he didn’t seem to understand or even recognize Mirage.

Jazz finished unbinding Skids, and looked into his white-colored optics. “Hey, there. You still with us?”

After a long moment, Skids nodded once.

“By the color of their optics, I'd venture to guess they are both on a memory-inhibiting drug,” Soundwave said. “Until it’s flushed out of their systems and processors reset they will not fully recognize anyone.”

Jazz sighed. “This is fragged up.”

“Indeed," Soundwave replied. "I have gotten past the password protections."

“You know, you shouldn’t have let that guard go,” Swindle said from where he lay on the floor, giggling.

“Why is that?” Jazz asked walking over to him.

“Because, he’s gonna tell on you!” Swindle cackled.

“Tell on us to _who_?” Jazz asked.

Pausing his laughter, Swindle snorted. “Just because I’m not suicidal enough to try and kill Big and Blue over there doesn’t mean other desperate mechs out there in need of credits aren’t! His bounty is huge!”

Jazz looked at Soundwave. “You almost done there? Sounds like we need to beat feet outta here.”

The control panel’s varying red, orange and yellow lights suddenly all went black as the panel shut down. “Yes, we may leave. The collars are disabled.”

“Let’s go,” Jazz replied.

Mirage removed Hound’s collar now that it was deactivated. He then squatted down and hooked it in place around Swindle’s neck. “A perfect fit, you piece of scrap.” Snapping the lead in the jangling loop, he stood up and tugged. “Get up!”

Swindle looked pretty pathetic, floundering to get to his feet, while trying to unsuccessfully repress his laughing.

Jazz gently took hold of Skids arm, and helped him up. “Sounders, you grab Hound? And ‘Raj, Swindle is yours. Let’s get back to the ship–”

Just then there was an explosion. Debris filled the air, raining down on them.

“What the frag?” Jazz called out.

A large girder fell across the doorway, blocking them in.

Mirage ran forward, pushing at it. “No!”

“It appears we’re trapped.” Soundwave’s chestplate opened, releasing Rumble, Frenzy and Ravage.

“Whoa!” Rumble looked around at the destroyed area. “What happened?”

“An explosion, you idiot,” Frenzy replied.

Swindle started cackling again. “My security guards that aren’t dead must have set off the explosives!”

“What?” Jazz whirled around and grabbed the dropped lead, yanking hard on it. “What explosives?”

“It’s rigged so if I ever had an uprising, I can blockade areas or blow up the slaves,” Swindle replied with a maniacal grin. “They set off the bombs to keep anyone from getting to the control panel. Told you not to let that guard go.”

“Fraggit!” Jazz dropped the lead and held his head in his hands for a moment, looking around frantically, trying to think fast.

“We’re easy targets now,” Mirage said, brushing some of the dust and debris from his shoulder, then turning to Hound, and knocking some off him as well.

“Jazz, may I suggest a course of action?” Soundwave said.

“Sure, what do you think?” Jazz asked, desperate for a plan of any kind.

“Notify Prowl of collar deactivation, and barricade our position until the other two missions are fulfilled,” Soundwave replied. “With cassettes, and Laserbeak outside, we have a reasonable chance to fend off guards. Eventually, our comrades will come seek us out.”

“We’ll knock ‘em on their afts!” Rumble added, excitedly.

“We don’t have much choice, do we?” Mirage said with a frown.

“Slaggit. You’re right. I’ll send the signal to Prowl that we did our part,” Jazz replied, praying to Primus they could hold out long enough. He opened his comm link and sent the prearranged energy signal over the secured line to Prowl.

:: Status? :: Prowl asked, his voice coming over the combined, open channel.

Everyone back on the ship would hear Jazz reply… He needed to be careful how he worded this. :: Collars deactivated. Proceed with next mission. ::

:: Your shuttle is stationary. ETA on return to compound? :: Prowl replied.

:: Uh, not sure. We sorta got ourselves in a situation, but proceed with plans. We’ll stick it out, :: Jazz explained.

There was a pause, and he averted his gaze from Mirage, Soundwave and the cassettes who were all staring at him.

:: Understood. Location to proceed to once we’ve completed our objectives? :: Prowl finally responded.

:: Control room of Swindle’s place, :: Jazz replied.

:: Stay put. We’ll come the minute mission two and three are complete. :: Prowl cut the communication.

Mirage sighed, and resumed brushing dust off Hound. Jazz glanced at the girder, and scowled when he heard voices echoing from down the hall on the other side. “Get Hound, Skids and this idiot–” he jerked his head at Swindle. “–behind the panel. Everyone else arm up and get ready.”

…

“Let’s get going. Last thing I need is to lose the alpha team,” Prowl said, settling into the captain’s seat of the bridge.

Shockwave had offered to be the navigator, and he nodded to Prowl as he opened the intercom to the engine room. “Ironfist, Skyfire, report on engines.”

“We’re all set!” Ironfist replied.

“And Red is coming up to help out on the bridge," Skyfire added. "He insisted."

That surprised Prowl, but he wasn’t going to argue the point. Trying to fly this large a ship with himself and Shockwave at the helm was definitely on the ludicrous side, but he needed as many as could be spared for the second mission to take over the refinery.

Checking the main control panel, Prowl saw the lights for the engines all come on. The doorway to the bridge opened and he turned in his seat to see not just Red Alert, but Thundercracker walk onto the bridge. The large seeker leaned heavily on a cane to get around as he slowly made his way forward.

“Where would you like me, commander?” Thundercracker asked, meeting Prowl’s gaze.

“And me,” Red Alert added.

Prowl smiled at both of them. “Red, could you monitor all the chatter and communications? The station is right there,” he said pointing.

“On it,” Red Alert said as he plopped down in the seat and hooked the audio-piece to his helm.

“Are you sure you should even be out of medbay?” Prowl asked as he looked at Thundercracker’s abdomen injury still covered with a crude piece of mismatched plating.

“And pass up the chance to arrest Starscream for his actions and watch you snuff Megatron’s spark out? Not a chance. I can’t fly like this, but I can certainly still throw a punch when the time comes,” Thundercracker replied. “Besides, if Mirage needs rescuing later, I want to be there.”

Prowl sharply nodded.

“Okay, hangar doors are opening. Everyone not sitting down, find a seat quick!” Ironfist called out over the ship’s intercom.

Thundercracker took a seat at another console, and Prowl settled in. He checked the camera feed from the cargo area, and saw the beta team was ready. “Proceed when ready, Ironfist and Skyfire,” Prowl replied.

The engines roared on, and their ship that probably hadn’t moved in millenia lifted upward. From the cavernous metallic walled underworld of the hangar, they rose up into the light of the midday on Cybertron.

“Wasn’t sure this ship would lift off." Shockwave inclined his helm at Prowl. "You have command. Orders?"

Prowl straightened in his seat and opened the ship intercom. "Remove compound perimeter force field, lift up, initiate our ship's shield and head for the refinery. Let's take back our home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the way through Part II, so I hope to post it soon!


	23. Fight! (Part II) + Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the Dream of Life universe closes.

Within minutes, the ship hovered over the roof of the refinery building, cargo opening and the beta team quickly disembarking.

On the roof, Bumblebee pointed the way toward the stairwell that would take them inside. Sunstreaker handed over the lead for Bob, and told him to protect their smaller comrade.

While they crossed the roof, the ship took back to the sky to initiate the third mission.

They soon clamored down the stairwell, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker leading the way with Ironhide at the back. Heavy hitters around their smaller teammates as protection. Bluestreak pulled his pistol from subspace, and Smokescreen followed suit.

“Okay, the offices are down at the end of this catwalk,” Bumblebee explained, pointing out where they should go. “There aren’t any guards here anywhere, since they keep everyone underfueled and I’m pretty sure it’s also laced with a drug.”

Bluestreak gently touched Bumblebee’s shoulder, not having realized he’d been drugged while here. Looking down at the refinery floor below, he frowned. “Where is everyone?”

“We must have arrived at a shift change,” Bumblebee replied, gazing down. “Vortex herds the group that had been working into one of the big holding rooms, then releases another group to go to work.”

“I think we need to split up,” Sunstreaker said. “Me, Sides, Smokes, we go to the subdue the afts in charge, and the rest of you go help free the workers.”

“No way,” Ironhide replied. “We stay _together_.”

Sunstreaker grimaced and opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted.

“What the _frag?_ ” Brawl shouted as he emerged from the office area.

They all turned to look at him.

“Hey there!” Sideswipe yelled back, waving like a doofus.

Smokescreen snorted and laughed at Sideswipe.

“What are a bunch of Autobot slaves doing here?” Brawl roared as he lumbered toward them.

“Funny story, we _aren’t_ slaves,” Sideswipe replied, shrugging his shoulders. “And as of a little while ago, neither are your factory workers.”

“And just to be clear, we’re here to kick your aft,” Sunstreaker added with a dark smile.

“Come on you two idiots, let’s _subdue_ him. Rest of you, watch our backs,” Ironhide said, taking over a leadership sort of role.

The three moved forward. Brawl wasn’t a small mech and he easily shoved Sunstreaker backward onto to his aft, but he got back to his feet in an instant. No matter how big this monster was, Brawl couldn’t fend off all three of them. Sideswipe jumped up on his back, hooking his arm around the larger mech’s neck and squeezing in an awkward headlock. Ironhide smirked and his fist flew with all his strength, slamming Brawl across the face. Stumbling a step, Brawl groaned, optics flickering. Sideswipe squeezed his neck harder, and Sunstreaker stepped up, punching the other side of Brawl’s face. He and Ironhide took turns until Brawl passed out from the multiple hits to his helm and toppled forward.

“Whoa!” Sideswipe called out, riding the large mech as he fell. Scrambling to his feet, Sideswipe grinned. “Awesome team work!”

Bluestreak moved in quickly with a set of stasis cuffs, locking Brawl’s hands in place behind his back.

“Here, we should wrap him up good,” Ironhide said, taking out a length energon rope.

The group worked in unison until Brawl was completely tied up and immobile.

“Okay, now we find Vortex,” Sunstreaker said, standing back up after tying off an end of rope around Brawl’s leg. He leaned against the railing of the catwalk and looked down. “How do we get down there?”

Bumblebee jerked his head toward the office area. “There’s a stairwell back behind the offices.”

“Let’s go.” Ironhide lumbered toward the office, and the small team followed him.

…

The voices of the guards on the other side of the girder and the debris echoed. Jazz, Mirage, Soundwave and his cassettes stood at the ready. The good thing about their being trapped meant they were out of reach of the guards for the moment. Jazz could hear them digging as they yelled at one another about getting tools to break through. It was only a matter of time before their team would have to defend their position.  

“That’s right, _good_ …” Swindle’s voice softly crooned.

Jazz rounded the control panel console to see Skids bent over with a mouth full of Swindle’s spike. “Are you _serious?_ ” Jazz grabbed hold of Skids, pulling him off and then picked up Swindle’s lead, jerking him toward the back wall of the small room.

Skids sat back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Mirage came around to help keep Skids and Hound contained as Jazz tied Swindle up with the lead, wrapping it around him several times before tying it off.

Soundwave didn’t move from his position, only casting a look over his shoulder once at the scene while he secured Swindle.

“What happened?” Frenzy asked, jumping up to stand on the console.

“Swindle using Autobots inappropriately,” Soundwave replied.

Rumble joined his brother, and they both glanced at Skids and Hound now curled up together against the backside of the control panel. “Why would he want them all out of it like that?” Rumble asked.

“Oh, they’re delightful like that! They do anything I ask. Obedient and submissive,” Swindle replied with a huge grin.

“Pfft. What fun is it if you have to boss them around, though?” Frenzy asked. “Way more fun when everyone is into it.” He elbowed Rumble. “Right?”

Rumble chuckled at that.

Mirage looked vaguely disturbed by the implications of their comments, but didn’t say anything.

“So, Big and Blue over there, tell me, has your purchase been satisfactory?” Swindle asked.

“Shut up,” Jazz replied.

“You know he wanted to buy you specifically, right? He asked what night you’d be put up for sale. I maybe high right now, but I remember what a pain in the aft you were that night. Had to give you an extra large dose and you scuffed your finish when we subdued you. Still, Soundwave wanted your fine aft, scuffs, attitude problem and all,” Swindle said, chuckling.

“You don’t know anything, so shut it already,” Jazz replied.

“What did you say to me, Big and Blue? ‘The visored one, Jazz, was an attractive piece you wanted to have’?” Swindle smirked as Soundwave turned to look over his shoulder at him.

“I did make that statement, but it was for your benefit,” Soundwave replied.

Jazz frowned and tried to not let Swindle’s prattle get to him. “Mirage, you mind watching those two?”

Mirage nodded.

Returning to Soundwave’s side, he softly sighed. His whole existence, his love for this mech and the fact he had paid for him started to make him feel uneasy and unsure. He prefered to act in the moment, live day by day. Reflecting on the past, trying to imagine a future, those were things he usually avoided for just this sort of reason.

Soundwave gently touched Jazz’s hand, and he glanced up at him as their fingers laced together. His spark fluttered as he gazed into that red visor, and the unease began to ebb. No matter how he arrived at this moment with this mech, he knew deep down this was where he _wanted_ to be.

…

Walking through the refinery floor area, minibots and other non-fighting military built mechs began to stream into the area around them.

Their team came to a stop. Bumblebee sadly frowned, watching his former co-workers walk right past without even questioning their presence, proceeding to their assigned tasks to set to work.

“What the frag?” Sunstreaker said, watching them.

“They’re like drones,” Sideswipe softly murmured.

“Vortex broke their wills. I hate to say it, but I think my rebellion probably made them even more complacent since I was beaten right in front of them all,” Bumblebee said with a sigh.

“Vortex is a piece of trash that needs to be taken out,” Sunstreaker replied, his anger rising to the surface.

Bob chirred and sniffed at the mechs walking past, but not even the presence of an insecticon was enough to rouse them from their stupors.

“Bee?”

Looking toward who’d called his name, Bumblebee’s face lit up. “Huffer!”

Huffer ran over and threw his arms around Bumblebee’s neck, clinging to him in a tight hug. “You’re alive! I thought for sure you were gonna die.”

Bluestreak smiled at how happy the two looked to be reunited.

Pulling back from the hug, Huffer scrunched up his nose. “Why are you here?” He then looked at the team all staring down at him. “Where are all your collars?”

Bluestreak reached down, and unlatched the one around Huffer’s neck. “We’re free again, and so are you.”

Bumblebee smiled at Huffer. “We’re here to free you all. We already tied up Brawl, but we need to find Vortex.”

Huffer stared with bright optics as Bluestreak dropped his collar to the floor and crunched it under his foot. “Uh, he’s in the back handing out rations to the group that just finished their shift.”

“Blue, Bee, how ‘bout you two deal with gettin’ these mechs off the machines and de-collared. The rest of us will go pay Vortex a little visit,” Ironhide said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Bumblebee replied.

Sunstreaker took off at that, with Sideswipe, Smokescreen and Ironhide hot on his heels. Near the back of the refinery was a large open warehouse-like space that was empty of mechs. Dirty, disgusting berth paddings lay strewn across the floor, and oil and energon stains were everywhere.

He then moved to another doorway that peered into an identical warehouse area, this one filled with minibots and others. Some were lying down, but most were standing in a long line to get their ration off a rolling cart that Vortex was manning.

“Hurry up you pieces of scrap, take your ration and step back!” Vortex barked at them.

Zeroing in on the mech that had made his life miserable for months and months, Sunstreaker stalked forward. Nothing else registered except his rage. Reaching the cart, Sunstreaker darkly smiled as Vortex looked up and their gazes met.

“Wha-what the frag!” Vortex staggered backward.

Sunstreaker found his former master’s fear intoxicating. With each step Vortex took backward, Sunstreaker took another step closer. “Weren’t expecting to ever see me again, huh?”

“You-your collar. What’s going on?” Vortex stammered.

“You’ve been removed from your position here. No more torturing anyone ever again. _That’s_ what’s going on,” Sunstreaker replied, stepping into Vortex’s personal space.

“Get away from me!” Vortex stumbled as he tried to back up further, falling over a dirtied berth pad on the ground.

Sunstreaker dropped down over top of him, straddling his hips. “Aww, didn’t you miss me?”

“No! Get off me! You’re disgusting! You’re-you’re…” Vortex was so upset by Sunstreaker’s very presence, he wasn’t even trying to fight back. It was pathetic.

“ _I’m_ disgusting?” Sunstreaker said, taunting the larger mech. He then ground his interface cover against Vortex’s, taking intense pleasure in the whimpered response he got. “But didn’t you enjoy finally sticking your spike in me? Wasn’t that what you wanted all along? _No?_ ”

“Sunstreaker!” Ironhide bellowed. “Stop being a glitch and cuff ‘im.”

Sunstreaker ignored the older mech, focused on his prey, grinding their array covers harder. “Tell me I’m disgusting one more time, you sick piece of scrap.”

Vortex’s visor flashed as he pushed on Sunstreaker’s chest. “You’re a disgusting, vile Autobot!”

Rage and hatred blinded Sunstreaker and he swung his fist with all his force, cracking it across Vortex’s face plate mask. “That’s for calling me disgusting!” He swung again, this time hitting so hard he dislodged the mask. “This is for calling Smokescreen a piece of shareware!” He swung again. “This is for putting me in the torture closet!” His fist flew yet again. “This is for almost killing Bumblebee!” Soon he was just pummeling his fists across Vortex’s face, which had cracked and began to seep energon. He didn’t even notice that he’s knocked him offline, his hurt and anger owning him to his core.

He vaguely heard his comrades yelling at him to stop, but he couldn’t. He wanted to kill this mech. He wanted there to be nothing but a stump where his head should be. Suddenly, he felt something he hadn’t in eons. Unconditional love poured into his spark from his brother which brought his attack to a halt. With his arm raised for another blow, he was left overwhelmed by a love so intense it had obliterated his rage in a spark pulse. Arm falling to his side, he sat back on his heels, tears glistening over his optics.

“I got you,” Sideswipe said.

Arms wrapped around his chest from behind, lifting him back to his feet. Sideswipe held him, hugging him tightly and murmuring his love to him softly. _This_ was why Prowl had insisted they re-open their bond. Linked like this again, they could keep one another safe and sane. He let his tears slip from his optics, uncaring how he might look to the rest of them.

Ironhide grumbled as he secured a now offlined Vortex. Smokescreen helped him, but as soon as he was done tying off his part, he got to his feet and walked up to Sunstreaker.

“ _Sunny._..” Smokescreen pressed in close, and hugged him from the front, resting the side of his face against his chest. “Thank you.”

Sandwiched between the two mechs that had helped him survive his time with Vortex, he broke down completely, trembling as he quietly sobbed.

“Always got you, Sunny,” Sideswipe whispered from behind. “ _Always_.”

He loosely slid his arms around Smokescreen, and pushed back all the love he carried inside his spark for his brother over the bond. He didn’t deserve an ounce of this affection from either of them, but Primus he wanted and needed it right now.

Ironhide’s expression softened when Smokescreen thanked Sunstreaker. Watching the three together, he could see how much pain and hurt Sunstreaker had been trying to hold in. The abuse they’d all endured had been brutal, and taken quite a toll on each of them. It was a wonder they were able to function at all. Still, here they were, with a refinery of free mechs.

Ironhide opened the general comm link line they were using for their missions to report in and sent his special signal to Prowl.

:: Refinery is secured. It’s a mess, though. Workers here are in bad shape, but we got the two goons in charge all tied up. ::

:: Excellent news. No injuries? :: Prowl responded.

:: Nah. The team is fine, :: Ironhide replied.

:: Good. As soon as I can, I will report in on our final mission, :: Prowl replied.

The comm link line then cut out.

…

The ship rounded the city and then straightened out as the targeted area they were heading for came into view on the monitors.

“Everyone hang on tight,” Prowl said, grasping the console. He pressed the intercom button. “Ironfist, Skyfire, grab onto something!”

They all braced themselves as Shockwave steered them at a sharp angle toward the medical center where Megatron and Starscream were. Jazz’s plan set into motion, the large ship careened into building’s front area, taking out about a quarter of the building before they came to a stop. According to the schematics Shockwave had acquired, they had smashed into the refectory area first, and then took out the offices and waiting areas. The ship was protected from any damage thanks to the force field wrapped around it.

“Tremorwave, in case of any injuries we may have caused from our little landing, be on stand by,” Prowl said over the intercom before practically leaping out of his seat. “Red, stay here, monitor all chatter and if there’s anything we should know abou–”

“Our crash is being broadcast on the news network. They’re saying the medical center was shut down after Megatron’s arrival?” Red Alert frowned. “Apparently fearing further retaliation against Megatron, all patients were moved to smaller medical centers around the city when he and Starscream arrived in case there was another attempt on their lives.”

Thundercracker derisively snorted at that.

“Let’s perform our mission, then,” Shockwave said, also getting to his feet.

Prowl nodded, and offered a hand to help Thundercracker up. “Let’s finish this once and for all. Red, keep me apprised.”

“Yes, sir!” Red Alert replied.

...

The drilling sounds were getting louder, along with the shouts and hollers of the guards.

“They’re going to break through any second,” Mirage commented with a frown.

“Bring it on!” Rumble said, transforming his arms into pile drivers.

“Frag yeah!” Frenzy added, following suit.

Jazz half-smiled at them. It was funny, he’d hated all the cassettes so much at first. Unruly, out of control little mechs that did nothing but tease and annoy him. But now, he saw how intensely loyal they were to Soundwave, and he found he respected them for that.

“Laserbeak reports four mechs attempting to break in,” Soundwave said, looking at Jazz.

“I have four guards left? Wow, thought I killed more than that,” Swindle said, chuckling.

“You are seriously fragged up,” Mirage said.

Jazz turned to look at Mirage, somewhat shocked to hear him use such a term. “You should swear more often!”

Mirage huffed. “I wish he’d just shut up, honestly.”

More debris dislodged and the voices got louder.

“Swindle, if you don’t keep your trap shut, I will shoot you in the mouth. Clear?” Jazz said, looking at their tied up prisoner. Of course, all Swindle did was start cackling.

“Everyone, get ready,” Jazz said, holding up his pistol. “Protect Hound and Skids as best we can.”

Ravage then jaunted behind the console and nudged Mirage away.

“Ravage will protect them. You may join us to fight, Mirage,” Soundwave explained.

Mirage raised an optic ridge at the cybercat, then got into position next to Jazz, also holding up his pistol.

“We can totally take four of ‘em. So let’s kick their afts, ‘kay?” Jazz said.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

A section of girder fell inside from the guards’ laser cutting efforts and a face of a guard they’d not seen before peered in. “Well, hello there! The bounty is all mine, mechs!”

“I don’t think so!” Rumble shouted.

“Now!” Frenzy yelled.

The two of them rattled the floor with their piledrivers, while Jazz and Mirage tried to pick off the guard with their pistols. Their target ducked the shots, and threw something small and round into room.

“That’s a bomb!” Mirage shouted.

They all ran to get behind the control console, and Soundwave did his best to shield all of them with his much larger mass. The bomb went off, heat barreling through the small room.

Once the heat of the explosion passed, Jazz winced and looked up to see the ceiling was cracked and crumbling. Pieces from the shattered ceiling started to rain down on them, but Soundwave remained where he was, bodily covering Jazz, who had Rumble and Frenzy in his lap, Mirage, Hound and Skids as much as he could. Then, despite his drugged state, Hound got to his knees, and mirrored Soundwave’s posture, using his larger bulk to help shield Skids and Mirage a little better.

The sound of debris falling was all they heard for what felt like forever. Finally, the roar of the building collapsing ceased.

“Everyone still here?” Jazz asked.

In the darkness, only the light of their optics illuminated their debris surrounded tomb.

“I think so?” Mirage reached up and cupped Hound’s face. “Thank you.”

“We’re okay,” Rumble and Frenzy replied in unison.

“The weight is heavy, but I can sustain this position with Hound’s assistance,” Soundwave replied.

“Wait, where’s Ravage?” Jazz said, looking at their little cocooned group.

Soundwave was silent for a moment. “Escaped. She will search out help with Laserbeak.”

“How in the world did she get out?” Jazz said, surprised and relieved.

“Ravage jumped through the hole just before the explosion,” Soundwave replied.

“Well, this isn’t how I thought I’d die, you?” Rumble asked his brother.

“Nah, I figured in a hail of glory! Shooting and fighting and stuff,” Frenzy replied.

Jazz snorted. “We’ll be alright. We aren’t dead yet, and I got no plans on biting it now.”

The two looked up at him. “Thanks for grabbing us before the bomb went off. You’re not so bad, Autobrat,” Rumble replied.

“Yeah, and you’ve got a cute aft, too,” Frenzy added with a grin.

“Refrain from harassing Jazz, please,” Soundwave replied.

“Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it. They can harass me with compliments. Besides, I thought you liked my aft, too?” Jazz said, teasing Soundwave. The brother cassettes both laughed.

Mirage shook his head. “I didn’t understand before. But I think I do, now. You two fit very well together.”

Jazz smiled at Mirage.

“Hello?” a familiar voice called out. “Anyone alive here?”

Mirage and Jazz exchanged looks.

“Is this an auditory hallucination, or did I just hear Wheeljack?” Mirage asked.

“Hello? Oh-uh… Nice kitty,” Wheeljack said.

“Ravage is on our side!” Jazz yelled. “She won’t hurt you!”

“Jazz? That you?” Wheeljack called back.

“Yeah! My whole team is here, plus a couple rescued mechs! We got buried!” Jazz shouted.

“Hey, Ratch! Roddy! Guys! They’re over here! We gotta dig ‘em out!” Wheeljack yelled.

Soundwave retracted his mask, revealing a smile to Jazz. “We will be saved.”

“Slag, yeah we will!” Jazz squished the brothers in his lap to tip his head up and kiss Soundwave in celebration. “Now let’s hope Prowl and Shockers pull off their part without a hitch.”

…

Picking their way through the destroyed medical center, Prowl and Shockwave took the lead, armed and ready to fight any would be guards they crossed paths with. So far, though, the building looked to be abandoned.

“Megatron should be on this level in a large suite at the back,” Shockwave said, turning down a main corridor.

“Will Starscream be with him?” Thundercracker asked, hobbling along behind them with his cane.

“Yes. He should be,” Shockwave replied.

A group of Decepticons ran into the corridor from an adjoining hallway. When they saw Prowl, Shockwave and Thundercracker, they all dropped to the knees with their arms up.

“We surrender!” one of the called out.

“Just don’t kill us!” another said.

“What the?” Prowl didn’t understand, but he wasn’t going to question the good fortune. “All of you up against the wall!”

The group scrambled at his barked order. He counted eight of them, pressed against the corridor wall. They looked terrified.

“What is going on?” Thundercracker asked in a hushed voice.

Their comm links all pinged.

:: Um, so someone named Dai Atlas commed in, and he said his ships landed, and they’re busy subduing anyone wearing a Decepticon symbol, :: Red Alert informed them.

“That explains it,” Shockwave replied. “Reinforcements are here.”

:: Send Dai Atlas this message: No killing any of the Decepticons. Arrest and detain for later sorting. Free all slaves of their collars but also round them up so they also can be properly examined and processed. Got all that, Red? :: Prowl replied.

:: Got it. I’ll let him know. Oh, and I just got a message from Jazz. His team was rescued from Swindle’s compound by Rodimus’ group. And they’re searching for Swindle. They don’t know if he’s dead or not, :: Red Alert replied.

“Who’s Rodimus?” Shockwave asked.

Prowl sighed. “I assume that’s Hot Rod, and I honestly don’t need the backstory right now. Let’s move on.”

“What about us?” one of the Decepticons against the wall asked.

“Stay put. You’ll be detained shortly,” Prowl replied before resuming down the hallway.

A closed door greeted them at the end, and Prowl glanced at Shockwave.

“He should be inside,” Shockwave quietly replied to the look. He pressed his laser hand to the control pad and shot it, shorting it out. The door hissed and unlocked.

Prowl grabbed hold of the door’s edge and pulled it open, revealing a sad scene inside.

Megatron was laid out on a medical berth hooked up to several machines. Wiring and lines with fluids were connected to his prone form, disappearing inside his opened chest. The soft beeps of a life support system eerily echoed in the room.

He wasn’t alone. Starscream was also curled up in the medical berth with him, barely lifting his head when he saw the intruders. Burns and dents covered his body, but he looked to be in fair shape considering how intense the blast to the apartment building had been.

“You,” Starscream said, stirring when he locked his gaze on Thundercracker. He weakly sat up. “ _You_ did this to him. Betrayer, _traitor!_ How dare you come here!”

Thundercracker frowned. “How are you not dead?”

“He protected me.” Starscream looked down at Megatron, fingers gently stroking the side of his face. “When the roar and fire of the bomb started to barrel through the apartment, he threw me down to the floor and covered me with his bulk.”

Prowl wasn’t sure what to think of that, especially in light of what Jazz had relayed him about what he’d seen in the apartment after his mission.

“One act of kindness toward you in the face of eons of abuse doesn’t absolve him of his crimes,” Shockwave replied.

“He loved me!” Starscream spat back, optics wild and bright.

“Loved? He didn’t love anyone or anything, Starscream,” Thundercracker replied.

“What do you know about love, _traitor?_ Your spark is too twisted to ever understand,” Starscream replied.

It was one of the saddest sights Prowl had ever seen in his life. Starscream so brutalized, so abused, so lost in his way that he believed Megatron had acted out of love. “You were a possession,” Prowl said after a moment. “He most likely believed with his larger, armored frame he’d be able to weather the explosion and acted accordingly to protect his prize.”

“Shut up!” Starscream replied, tears making his optics glossy. “You know nothing!”

“I know love,” Prowl replied. “He was incapable of such an emotion.”

“Frag you! Frag all of you! Get out! Leave us be!” Starscream threw himself back over Megatron’s unmoving body, sobbing and trembling.

Thundercracker limped forward with his cane. He ran a hand down Starscream’s wing slowly in a gesture of comfort. “You need to let go of him. He’s only alive because of these machines. It’s all over now.”

Starscream twisted to peer up at Thundercracker. “Will you kill me as well?”

“No,” Thundercracker replied.

“I’ll be locked away for the rest of my days, won’t I?” Starscream asked, a coldness entering his tone.

“Yes,” Shockwave replied.

Starscream pushed to sit up again, wiping at his face. “The broadcasts are saying three ships landed. That the slaves are free now. Is this all your doing? Did you all destroy everything _he_ built here?”

“We overthrew a tyrant that was oppressing and abusing everyone he came in contact with, including you,” Prowl replied as he stepped forward, holding his weapon at the ready just in case.

“Keh, that’s how you see it, I suppose.” Leaning down, Starscream kissed Megatron’s lips. “No one will ever understand you like me, and that means no one else should have this honor other than me.” Reaching into Megatron’s open chest, Starscream wrapped his hand around the exposed spark chamber. “If I’m going to be locked away for the rest of my days, I may as well be the one to murder him.” His hand squeezed the chamber.

Prowl’s doorwings began to tremble as he watched the light of Megatron’s spark brighten then flicker under the pressure. It looked just the same as when this monster had done the very same thing to Optimus on the battlefield. The memory of that horrible moment flooded Prowl’s processor as he watched the light in Megatron’s chest go out. Tears surfaced as both grief and relief swirled around inside his own spark. It was over. The war, the fight for their freedom, it was all over now.

Starscream sadly gazed at Megatron’s empty shell of a body for a moment, then held out both his hands to Thundercracker. “Arrest me, or whatever.”

Leaning his cane against his hip, Thundercracker pulled a pair of stasis cuffs from subspace and snapped them around his wrists without a word.

Shockwave gently touched Prowl’s arm. “Are you alright?”

Prowl nodded, battling the tears that were trying to escape. “We need to start  organizing and gaining control over the chaos we’ve caused.”

“Of course, commander,” Shockwave replied with warmth and respect.

The task ahead was daunting, but Prowl had faith in their kind. They were a resilient race. After all, sixteen or so mechs from both factions had just exhibited incredible strength and prevailed despite the odds stacked against them. In time, he knew things would be set right again.

…

Epilogue, one year later:

Walking down the long corridor from the council meeting room toward the front of the new government building, Prowl was lost in his own thoughts.

He’d been in charge of the situation on Cybertron those first few weeks after Megatron’s death. Rodimus had used the matrix to help heal their planet with Perceptor’s help using some sort of apparatus to direct the energy into the planet’s core, which renewed its internal energy levels and brought their planet back to life so to speak. All the freed slaves were soon on their way to recovery, while all the criminals were charged and put into detainment including Swindle who they’d eventually located and Starscream. Prowl had then called on Dai Atlas to help him form a new government. After long meetings, they’d decided on a council structure, but unlike the previous iteration, the members would rotate and be voted into their positions. At the moment, Prowl was on the new council but in all honesty he was already looking forward to stepping down at the end of his appointed term.

Reaching the end of the corridor, he walked into the large entryway of the building. He came to a stop in front of a life-sized statue they’d erected in Optimus’ honor. The statue was on a pedestal which put his feet at chest-level for most mechs, including Prowl. Placing a hand on his former mentor and leader’s foot, which was shinier from several mechs all doing the same, he sadly smiled up at him.

“I thought I might miss you less as time marched on, but I still feel a very real pain in my spark every time I look at this statue of you,” Prowl said. “I hope you can see from the Well of Sparks our efforts to heal. You didn’t die in vain. I’m doing my best to honor all you stood for.”

He then grew quiet, gazing at the face of the statue. Memories of their time as friends who sometimes were at odds with one another surfaced.

“Prowl! We’re gonna be late! What are you doing?” Sideswipe asked as he bounded across the entryway from the front doors toward him.

Glancing over, Prowl smiled at the sight of the two brothers. He braced himself as Sideswipe reached him first, arms wrapping around him and hugging him tightly. Sunstreaker strolled up with Bob trotting along behind him. Reaching them, he threw his arms around both of them, and leaned in to kiss Prowl’s cheek.

Bob wriggled his aft and chirred excitedly.

“Bob is ready to dance! How about you?” Sideswipe asked as he leaned back to gaze at Prowl.

“Dancing isn’t exactly a pastime I would chose,” Prowl replied.

“This isn’t a ‘pastime’, Prowl.” Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge. “This is a _celebration_. One a long time coming, if you ask me.”

Prowl softly sighed.

“Oh come on, Prowl.” Sideswipe started to dance a little against him. “You can’t deny having me and Sunny grinding up against you in front of everyone isn’t an ego boost.”

Heat flaring over his faceplates, Prowl shook his head. “I am certainly a fortunate mech.”

Sunstreaker grinned at that. “Two hot mechs dancing around you, frag yeah you are.”

Prowl playfully swatted at them. “Let’s get going.”

He’d honestly never imagined the relationship they’d forged would have lasted, but the two of them circled their lives around him like he was the center of their universe. No doubt it made him feel special and very lucky. He couldn’t imagine his life without them in it now, and silently reveled in every moment they shared together.

They walked out of the building, and made their way through the streets toward the origin of loud, booming music that echoed into the night around them. Rounding a corner the new dance club came into view. Named “Vibes”, Jazz and Soundwave had worked hard to bring a dream they shared to life. Opening night they’d decided to throw a party in celebration of the one year anniversary of winning their home back.

Entering the club, lights and music overtook all other senses. Prowl was pulled by each hand onto the dance floor, and the brothers danced around him, while Bob ran around their feet. He finally relented, and let his body move to the strong beats of the music, swaying and bopping between the twins.

Blaster was up on the stage, in charge of the music. Every one in the club was drinking, dancing and letting loose. It was a catharsis for their kind, finally enjoying their existence instead of lamenting it.

Jazz and Soundwave danced together near the stage, surrounded by the cassettes who were also enjoying themselves. Soundwave slid an arm around Jazz, dipping him backward and stealing a quick kiss after he retracted his mask.

“Sexy slagger,” Jazz replied loudly over the music.

Soundwave smiled. “Beautiful Jazz.”

Nearby Bluestreak stuck out in a small sea of minibots, but he only had optics for Bumblebee. They two held hands and swung around as they danced, both thrilled to have the other.

Smokescreen sat with Ironhide at a side table, optics bright as he watched the scene. Ironhide’s focus was on him, though, and after a moment, he took hold of Smokescreen’s hand and lumbered onto the dance floor, pulling his smaller companion along behind him. He then wrapped Smokescreen up his arms and despite the fast-paced beat, the two melted into one another’s embrace to slow-dance.

Shockwave no longer sported a singular hand and optic. They’d been replaced with an old, familiar visage of a time long before the war. Tremorwave had successfully reversed his empurata, and he now beamed as he smiled and danced with an overly excited and very awkward Ironfist. While there was no official word on their relationship as being more than friends, the two had been spending a lot of time with each other over the last few months.

Just next to them, Tremorwave danced with First Aid who was mobile again thanks to external leg modifications he’d designed himself. His affection for the rescued medic apparent each time he leaned in to kiss First Aid.

Thundercracker had also healed completely from his near death, and he and Mirage danced close, drawing on a traditional series of steps which bolstered their presence on the dance floor, mesmerizing those around them who couldn’t help but watch.

Another pair to arrived somewhat late, Skyfire and Red Alert. The two had spark bonded to one another in those first few days after Megatron’s defeat, and Red Alert was the happiest he’d been in a very long time. His sadness and loss stayed with him every moment, but the crushing loneliness was gone. Despite his reservations about Skyfire taking on the burden of his loss, it had worked out better than he imagined. He still didn’t understand how he’d found two mechs to love this much, but he thanked Primus constantly for the blessing he’d been given.

The music’s upbeat sounds slowed.

Drift pulled Perceptor close, and they kissed. “Love you,” Drift said against his lips.

Perceptor smiled. “I’m aware.”

Drift’s new blue optics brightened as he mock frowned. “Percy!”

Cupping his face, Perceptor kissed him again sweetly. “I love you, my beautiful fighter.”

Melting at that, Drift dimmed his optics. He’d never imagined when he bought this mech to save him all that time ago, they’d both end up free and so in love. He’d move the planets themselves for Perceptor if he had to and he spent every day trying his best to be worthy of Perceptor’s love.

Prowl barely moved with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker holding him between them and nuzzling his helm as they swayed with the slower song. Looking out across the dance floor, seeing all the truly free mechs smiling and happy was an amazing achievement and collective dream come true. He knew Optimus would be very proud if he’d lived to see this moment.

 

_“To get a dream of life again, A little vision of the sun in the end,”  
Breath of Life, Florence + The Machine_

 


End file.
